Chasm
by derpette-Waffle
Summary: Dan is known as the town's "bad boy". He had piercings, he rides a motorcycle, and he even has a few tattoos. Phil is the town's "goodie two shoes".
1. Chapter 1

**PHIL**

I was already late for class. My footsteps echoing through the empty hallway felt heavier than usual. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried not to vomit when the bile slid back down my throat. I didn't understand why I was so anxious –I was angry more than anything, but maybe anger was just such a strange and unfamiliar feeling to me that I couldn't help feeling sick over it. I already spent most of the weekend dreading my chemistry class, and it was only Monday, so I still had a whole week before I could take a little breather. Today was the midterm, so I could hope that Andrew wouldn't bother me too much, in favor of letting me take my exam in peace and leave before he got the chance to talk to me.

I peeked through the panel of clear plastic on the door to the lab; Andrew was in his assigned seat, next to mine. I wished I could switch lab partners. Maybe if Andrew had done something really horrible, and something I was comfortable telling the teacher about, I'd be allowed a new partner. But the situation didn't have quite enough grounds for a change, and I didn't feel like talking about it, either. I'd have to just suck it up and deal with him the rest of the year –just a few more months to go, now.

I slipped in, not unnoticed by Mr. Kent but not reprimanded for my tardiness. I timidly approached his desk, and he silently handed me and exam. I nodded a thanks and scurried to my seat. I wanted to start as quickly as possible, so I could in turn finish as quickly as possible.

"Psst!" About five minutes into my exam, Andrew was trying to get my attention. I glared down at my test paper and tried to ignore him. "Psst!"

"What do you want?" I hissed back. We were sat far in the back of the room; Mr. Kent couldn't hear us and our classmates were too wrapped up in trying not to fail to care about what was going on behind them.

"I just hope you're not still mad at me. You wouldn't answer my calls or reply to my texts…"

He sounded genuinely remorseful, but now was not the time to just let him off. "We'll talk later," I groaned, just loudly enough for him to hear. He accepted my response and went back to his own work, and I could get back to mine.

The exam wasn't difficult, not any more so than any other test we'd taken so far. At least, not for me, but unlike a lot of my peers, I actually studied; maybe not as much over the weekend as I would've liked to, but enough to have confidence in my score. I gathered my stuff up again and walked to the front of the room with my test, handed it to the teacher, and left.

I headed straight to the library. Mrs. Bessle trusted me enough to not ask where I'd come from; I signed myself in and sat down to read a bit.

I only got through a couple of pages before someone sat down next to me. I looked up to see who it was and found PJ staring at me, looking as if he had something exciting and important to say. I smirked and shut my book so he could have my attention.

"Your birthday's coming up."

"Oh wow, I almost forgot."

"But you should have a party!" He knew how I felt about parties, especially after Friday night, so he was quick to clarify. "I mean, like, a small social gathering, at your place."

"My place?"

"Or mine?" he suggested, shrugging. "My parents are out of town this weekend and this weekend only, so if you don't wanna run the risk of things getting out of hand at your house, we'll have to do it this weekend. I'll get everything set –I don't know what to get you, so consider that the present."

I scoffed. "Okay."

"So that's a…?"

"That's a yes," I laughed. "Go on, plan your 'small social gathering.'"

"In your honor." He picked up his things and left, leaving me in the quiet of the otherwise empty library.

* * *

I always had the first few hours after school alone to myself and my thoughts. The first hour or so was spent with my nose buried in my economics textbook, studying for that midterm tomorrow. I had pretty much everything down pat, and I wasn't expecting anything too difficult when the first half of the year had been a cakewalk. I listened to a little bit of music and watched a little bit of TV and ended up just lying in bed by four-thirty. I'd been feeling sort of blech ever since I woke up Saturday afternoon, probably from nerves and pent up emotions. I just couldn't seem to relax, even with a nearly clear head, lying down and doing nothing.

My phone rang. This wasn't the first time Andrew had called me since I got home, but it was the first time I had no outside excuse not to answer him. I'd told him we'd talk today; there wasn't much chance to put it off any longer. I sucked in a breath and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me, Andrew."

"I know, you're listed as 'Asshat' in my contacts."

"I-… Listen, I'm sorry about what happened on Friday. Like, really, really sorry. I just want you and I to go back to how things were before…"

"Well, you tried that on Friday, but your method was such a miserable and heinous failure that I've been trying to block those times from my memory ever since. Thank you for pouring salt on the wound, though."

"I heard you were having a party on—"

"You're not invited."

"I didn't think so…"

"Goodbye, Andrew."

I didn't give him a chance to say anything else, make any more pleas for forgiveness. I needed him out of my life.

I heard some commotion coming from across the street and peeked out my window. There was a moving van –I hadn't even known the house next door was for sale. There were a middle-aged man and woman unloading boxes, and an unfamiliar boy riding his bike in circles in the street. There was one more figure, though; a tall, lanky boy with dark hair, sitting on the hood of the car parked in the driveway, a cigarette hanging from between his lips.

Curious and needing to get my mind off a certain dickweed, I decided it might be polite to go over and welcome them to the neighborhood.


	2. Chapter 2

"Daniel Howell, put that cigarette out right now."

Mom didn't even sound up for actually scolding me or anything, not after the third time saying the same thing since we arrived, and getting nowhere. I smirked and decided to placate her, dropping the light to the ground and grinding it under my boot.

"There. Now, about that motorcycle—"

"You're not getting a motorcycle." She sounded decisive, but I figured I could change her mind with a little pleading and persuasion.

I pulled my box of cigarettes out of my pocket. "I'll quit smoking if I can get one," I offered.

"Let you go from one risk to your life to a more immediate risk to your life? You're not getting a motorcycle, or a motorcycle license, and that's final." She started to carry a box inside. "And could you please just try to carry some things inside?" I asked if she would reconsider, but she didn't answer, so I didn't help.

I lied back on the windshield, staring up at the dreary sky. I knew I was going to hate how cold it was around here. There was snow everywhere; I was so used to rain, and couldn't remember the last time I'd seen snow. But snow was nothing special when it had to be so fucking cold. I was missing Florida already.

"Hey."

I lifted my head, bending my neck at an uncomfortable angle, to see a stranger standing at the picket fence between my new house and the one next door. He had glasses and black hair covering one eye, and thank god because he might've blended right into the snow otherwise. He was smiling, so I had some kind of obligation to acknowledge his greeting. "Hi."

After that exchange, I tried to just ignore his being there. I sort of wished he'd go away. I wasn't really up for meeting someone my first day in town. I kind of just wasn't to adjust first, and I had to start at the new school tomorrow. I had so much to get used to and I didn't need to get involved with a kid who looked way too innocent for us to get along. But he didn't go anywhere; he just continued to stand at the fence, as if waiting for me to keep talking. I kept my face pointed toward the sky, but could still see him standing there –stupid smile on his face— out of the corner of my eye. No matter how hard I ignored him, he stayed there. Eventually he waved, and I heaved a sigh and determined interaction was inevitable. "So, uh… What's your name?"

"Phil." He pushed his hair a little out of his eye. "What's yours?"

"Dan."

"Welcome to the neighborhood, Dan! I think you and your family will like it well enough."

"Yeah, I bet." Unfortunately he seemed immune to sarcasm, all sunshine and warmth in the winter cold.

"Do you need any help moving in?"

_God, just go away._ "No thanks, we're—"

Mom picked the worst time to come back outside; I was almost rid of the nuisance, but then she shows up and wants to take up offers on any assistance she wasn't getting from me. "Hey Daniel, who's your friend?"

I huffed. "Lives next door. Um…" I sighed and turned back to him. "What's your name again?"

"Phil."

"There you have it." I laid my head back down on the windshield and had no intention of getting up, letting my eyes fall shut. I heard Mom and the new kid talk for a bit, and he agreed to help bring some boxes inside. Left in silence, I fell asleep soon after.

* * *

"Daniel, wake up."

I groaned and slowly opened my eyes, wincing at the sudden light. I wasn't out on the hood of the car anymore; I was in some unfamiliar room furnished with some more familiar bits and pieces of my belongings. Not everything was unpacked yet, I could tell –there was a pile of boxes over in the corner, and most of my furniture was stripped bare still. I figured this must've been my new room. I slowly sat up, staring blankly at Mom sitting on the edge of my bed. "What do you want?"

"We're having pizza for dinner. Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"You're feeling alright?"

I nodded stiffly, stretching my arms up over my head. "I'll be down in a minute, I'm just gonna sleep a few more minutes."

She pushed my hair back but I pulled away. "Alright. I'll see you downstairs in a bit." And she left, closing the door behind her.

I yawned and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had two missed calls from Desi. I figured I should probably call back before she got too anxious over me. I dialed and waited tiredly for her to answer.

"Danny, you okay?" she asked eagerly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I fell asleep, this move has been exhausting."

"Is everything unpacked yet?"

"No, but my parents will probably be working on that over the next week or so. My room is mostly set up but it feels really empty without my shit strewn everywhere." I forced a laugh, which she didn't return.

"I don't like having you so far away."

I winced. "I don't like being so far away. Maybe you can come up in the summer or something."

"I really hope so."

We talked for a while, and I forgot about dinner. I told her about everything that happened on the way from Florida up to New York, how long and boring and irritating a ride it was with my family squeezed in with a moving van following us. I told her about how Mom still wasn't letting me get a motorcycle no matter how I tried to convince her. I told her about that kid who came to greet us, and how he'd helped move us in when I refused, and that's how I ended up sleeping on the hood of the car, and then woke up in bed.

"I think maybe you should try to make friends with him."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Convenience? He's right next door, and you need to be a bit more social. This is your chance for a new life, Danny. I think you should take every opportunity you can find."

I scoffed. "Fat chance, Des. Anyway, my mom will probably throw a fit if I don't get downstairs and eat something soon."

"Call me when you're done?"

"I'm not feeling too well, I think I'm just gonna go back to sleep after dinner."

"Oh… Okay. I-I hope you feel better soon, Danny."

"Thanks. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up, wishing the end of that hadn't been so awkward. Exasperated, I ran my fingers through my hair, only to have a small clump come out on my hand. _Fuck, not already._


	3. Chapter 3

**PHIL**

I had two midterms on Thursday and another on Friday, the worst of all the last of the week. My economics exam, as expected, was easy enough. I easily aced it, handed it in after just a half hour, and asked to go to the library. Ms. Donahue signed a pass and I headed off down the hallway. Everything was quiet; no one seemed to be out and about in the middle of fourth period. I liked the quiet. I liked walking in the silence of the empty hallways en route to the library, where I could find further quiet. I momentarily considered the idea of a strange silence before an attack in a horror movie, and laughed at the thought. No one was coming to get me at my school, in the middle of the day. Nighttime might be a different story; school was spookier at night.

Still, I had the sense I wasn't alone, either. I felt a strange presence behind me the closer I got to the library. I swallowed hard and turned around, ready to face terror. But no: Andrew was just walking behind me. I was about to shout at him, tell him to just leave me alone, but he didn't stop when I stopped. He was walking with a friend, and only spared me a slight solemn glance as they walked past, talking and not acknowledging me beyond that one look. I sighed in relief and hurried off to the library, ignoring the rule about running in the hall.

I knew when I went through the door that I wasn't going to get much studying done. PJ looked up from his work at the opening of the door, and grinned when he saw me and gestured me over. I smiled, shrugging, and went to sit next to him.

"So the party's set for tomorrow night."

"Party?"

"Yeah, it's easier to call it that than 'small social gathering.' But don't worry, I've only invited a handful of people. And they all know it's for your birthday."

"Well, tell them I don't want anything." I dropped my bag to the ground and pulled out my French textbook to review some vocab and conjugations. "I think I'll do fine," I mumbled to myself, a bad habit I indulged too often. "But I just need to study just a little more."

"Do you know what you're gonna wear?"

"T-shirt and jeans?" I answered absently, only half-listening to my friend as I tried to cram.

"Do we need to go shopping?"

"I don't think so. I'm sure I have an outfit that'll look fine. It's nothing too spectacular, Peej… right?"

I heard him hum in figuring out what to say. "I just want you to have fun. I'm trying to make sure everything's good, since it was my idea anyway, and it's your party."

"Small social gathering."

"Party."

"Whatever. Anyway, who did you invite?"

He listed off some people, not all of whom I was too familiar with, but knew well enough for them to be there. I didn't have too many close friends, and maybe I would've rather kept it in just that small group, but I couldn't get annoyed with PJ for trying to expand my circle a bit –at least not when it was at his house, not mine, anyway. I nodded as he came to the end of the list, and had to ask: "No Andrew?"

He looked a little taken aback at the name. "Andrew who?"

"You know. Andrew Duncan."

"Oh… I don't think I texted him. Why? Did you want him to be there?"

I shook my head, hiding my face in my hands. "No, I don't. I'd rather I never have to see him again, but he's my lab partner. I've been dreading chem every day all week." I looked up at the clock. It was still a while before I'd have to see Andrew again. I laid my head down on the table, sighing heavily. I ended up laughing softly at my friend's hand rubbing my back.

"Stay strong, trooper. Anyway, this is gonna be a lot of fun, I promise. I already got snacks and set up all my game consoles in my basement. It has the most room and the biggest TV. This is gonna be pretty epic for a small party."

"I look forward to it."

* * *

'Do you wanna come to my game tomorrow?'

I groaned. I wished to god that Andrew would stop trying to contact me, and expect me to still be friendly. I texted him back to tell him I was busy tomorrow, not letting him onto the party, and hoping he'd finally get a clue.

I wasn't so lucky. Though he didn't show up to class that afternoon –letting me take a breath of relief— by the time I got home he was calling me incessantly. I considered filing for a restraining order, but finally answered him all the same.

"Hello?" I groaned into my phone.

"Listen, I know you're sick of me and really don't wanna talk to me, but just hear me out. I just wanna apologize for Friday."

I sighed. "Fine," I relented, reluctantly agreeing. "Go on. Try to convince me to forgive you, or at least let it go."

There was a pause; I guess he was mulling his case over. "I… I didn't mean what I did. I didn't mean to hurt you… I just wanted you back."

I collapsed onto the couch in my living room, thankful I was home alone. "Andy, you know you could get arrested and maybe go to jail for what you did, right? I mean, like, I know you didn't go too far, but…" I sighed, wincing. "I don't know. I don't think I can trust you anymore. I don't want to be around you anymore. It hurts." I pulled my knees up to my chest, wishing to end this conversation sooner than later.

"I-I know. But you know I—"

There was some commotion in the background, and he didn't talk for a minute. I waited impatiently.

"I-I gotta go. I'll talk to you later…?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

Another long pause. "I… Okay. I… I love you."

I nodded and hung up. I tossed my phone to the other end of the couch and stared at it for a long moment, until my eyes were so blurred with tears I couldn't see it anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

After talking to Andrew I forgot all about my calculus final, or the thing at PJ's house. I just wanted to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling, wanting to just sleep for a long time but not finding the energy to go up to my bedroom. I was choking on air and it hurt. Andrew loved me; apparently he still loved me and I still wasn't sure I was as over him as I thought, but after that party on Friday… I didn't know if there was any way to get around that. I didn't love him anymore –I couldn't afford to.

I had to go upstairs before my parents came home, on the off chance they might question my red eyes and blotchy cheeks. I didn't want to cry over this. I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face, willing myself to stop with the tears. I forced my head high, stomping to my bedroom and collapsing into my desk chair to start some last-minute studying.

I went to making sure I had some formulas memorized for tomorrow's exam, but I was barely able to keep my aching head up. I told myself to concentrate, to clear my minds of thoughts of my ex with mathematics, but I was probably forgetting more of the equations than I was remembering the further I pressed on. By the third time I fell asleep in my book, I decided I'd just have to get it done in the morning, and try to sleep.

Sleep didn't come nearly quickly enough. I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. I felt the ghost of Andrew's arms wrapping around my waist. At one time, that would've helped me relax, and I could fall asleep in his embrace. But now it left a sour taste in my mouth, and I flinched away from nothing, falling out of my bed in attempt to escape his memory. I just laid on the floor for a while, sobbing quietly and curling in on myself.

"Phil? Are you okay?" my father's voice came from the other side of my bedroom door.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine," I answered, trying to make my voice sound as strong as I could.

"Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry." And that was the end of that meaningful conversation. I dragged myself back into bed and laid down, hoping to no longer be haunted by the memory of us.

* * *

I had no time to really study before my midterm, and struggled accordingly. I didn't even get to finish all the questions; I begged Mr. Murphy for just a little extra time but he took my test from my shaking hands, assuring me it wouldn't count too much against me. I couldn't sit in there any longer –I needed to get somewhere safe and quiet before I'd explode.

I found myself in the boys' bathroom down the hall, and hid away in a stall, trying to calm down and not think about my grade on that test. I quietly told myself how well I was doing so far this year, and that one blemish wouldn't shatter my chances of going to a good college.

"Breathe… Just breathe…"

I heard the bathroom door open and some talking, but couldn't really make out what the two were saying. I didn't recognize their voices, so I had no real interest in their conversation, but I had nothing to focus on but their words and breathing. I heard them say something about a party that night, but it couldn't have been about mine. I tried to ignore the rest of what they were saying and focus on calming down for my next class.

Chemistry, but Andrew didn't show up. I told myself not to think about Andrew: I didn't need him, not for the lab exercise, not for anything. And the more I told myself this, the more at ease I started to feel.

* * *

'Party starts right after school! Take the bus to my house.'

I ignored the looks I got and the whispers about my presence on the bus to PJ's house. I wish he would've stayed until the end of the day so I wouldn't be all alone for the ride, but he said he needed to make sure everything was set. Apparently his parents had already left that morning, and so there shouldn't be any issues. I couldn't imagine why there really would be; it was just a few people.

When I arrived, I was the fourth person to be there, and half of the others I didn't know at all. I forced a smile and tried to go along with it –the crowd was small and wouldn't get big enough to get out of hand, right?

Well, a half hour later and twelve or thirteen more people had shown up. I was growing more anxious and angry with every person that came down the stairs. I knew I need to find PJ and demand to know why so many strangers were here, but I felt my feet bolted to the ground in that one spot. I couldn't move, I had nowhere to go. I could only watch as people talked and laughed, and the alcohol quickly came out.

PJ found me before I found him. He clapped me on the back, a cup of something in his hand. "Having fun, birthday boy?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No, I'm not having fun," I answered over the music blasting through the basement. "What happened to small gathering? I thought you only invited a few people!"

"I did!" His voice was slurring and he was swaying on his feet, leaning against my steadier shoulder –he was tipsy if not already drunk. "I only told a few. But you know parties: you invite friends and friends invite there friends, and all that! Just calm down and have some fun! You deserve it." He patted my shoulder again and nudged his way through the crowd until he was out of sight. I'd never wanted to strangle him so much in my life.


	5. Chapter 5

I kept my hand over my drink and stood in the corner. A few people came up to me and said "happy birthday" and whatnot; I'd just smile and thank them politely, and tentatively urge them to enjoy the party. Well, it was already this wild, and there was no slowing down so early –who, especially passive, scrawny me— could stand between them and a good kegger?

I checked my phone for the time: five o'clock and people were already plastered. Even looking back to a year or so ago, I couldn't imagine myself or any of my friends getting so drunk so early –it was worrying and fascinating, to say the least. But here I was, likely the only completely sober person at a party that was at one point meant to be for me, and not somewhere to be so invisibly.

To be fair, I couldn't blame the state of the party entirely on PJ. He wouldn't lie: he said that he'd only invited a few people, even giving me names, and I still wholeheartedly believed him. He did supply a good amount of the alcohol, which I wouldn't have been thrilled about, but from the birthday cake in the corner and an insufficient stash of snacks, I could imagine this as originally being a small get-together.

I stood there in silence for a long while, waiting for the crowd to eventually die down –they'd probably head out to another, more exciting party while the night was still young— so I could slip out without any thought I might be missed. But even that was unlikely –the only person to miss me would maybe be PJ –it seemed everyone was so absorbed in thumping music and solo cups of beer that no one would pay any mind to the absent birthday boy. They hadn't acknowledged my existence much while I was standing right near the door; how would they even notice?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I plucked it out and turned to face the corner: it was easier to read the text on my dull screen encompassed in the darkness of my shadow.

PEEJ: Sorry about this. I'll make it up to you, I swear

I believed it well enough, but didn't expect more than good intentions. He was a little cursed that way; he could accomplish almost anything except when it was for someone else –and then it had to be the thought that counts. He'd try to make it up to me, and something would go wrong, and repeat. And he'd feel more and more guilty every time a plan fell through until I could eventually convince him that he could stop, that he didn't owe me anything. And he didn't. The fact that he wanted to throw what had really been intended to be a small gathering of friends, that was more than enough from him to me.

"Happy birthday to me…"

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, and my blood ran cold. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. I knew that hand, of which its touch alone made my face flush in frustration, anxiety, embarrassment –Andrew brought out the very worst emotions in me to such a degree as he used to bring out the best.

I whipped myself around to face him, staring slightly upward to his face. He was a bit taller, and much more built than I was. I shook his hand from my shoulder without risking breaking eye contact; I needed to watch his every move down here, where the dozens of people around were so oblivious to our existence, let alone our past.

* * *

I agreed to join Andrew out in the front yard while he smoked a cigarette. I felt somewhat safer out in the open, where the air wasn't as stifling, and I could make an escape if I needed to. I tugged my coat tighter around my trembling body, knowing full well it wasn't the cold that was making me shake.

But for a while Andrew didn't speak. He lit the cigarette and puffed it a few times, stare down at his feet, watch smoke drift up into a cloudy sky –he wouldn't even look at me. I could only hope he was still feeling guilt; I couldn't imagine how I'd ever forgive him, but knowing he was remorseful made me feel just a bit more at ease. Maybe it meant he wouldn't try something again.

"Any particular reason you pulled me out of my own party?" I asked, standing a little taller and feigning strength in my voice. He laughed softly and I puffed out my cheeks in frustration. "Did you need a witness, thinking you're all badass smoking a legally bought cigarette?"

"I just wanted some fucking civility between us." He turned on me, and I stumbled back a bit. "I love you –you know that, even if you know better than anyone that sometimes I- I feel entitled to what I want." He grabbed my arm and I wanted to cry out for help. Someone on the block would hear me. My voice caught in my throat and I couldn't make a sound, aside from a strangled yelp when he held both arms tighter. "I did some awful things."

"S-Say it, then."

"What?"

"Y-You feel so bad about what you did, I want you to f-fucking say it. Out l-loud." I had no idea what was coming over me, but I needed some sort of closure with the man I'd once thought I loved.

He huffed, and didn't let go. I could see he was sweating even in the cold. "I put that shit in your soda. Just enough so you would stay after the party with me and just listen, be there with an open mind when I begged to have you back. But you came onto me. I was just taking what you were offer—"

"Fucking _liar_!" I managed to pry myself from his grasp. I was burning all over, and my eyes were brimming with tears. "You drugged me. You took me to a back room when the party was ending and you started taking my clothes off. I tried to push you away but you held me down, and I had to fucking break a glass over your head to escape. How's that scar, by the way? Permanent reminder that you're an attempted rapist."

"I fucked up! I'm sorry, but I don't know how long I can be sorry for anymore, you fucking slut! You get off on this, don't you? Get off on my pain and complete loss of dignity and self-respect? I know the kind of kinky shit you're into, none of this sadism should've surprised me. You get off on pain and others' pain and you make yourself feel all big for it. You're just a fucking cunt who can't keep your shit together long enough to keep your legs closed!"

I was a sobbing mess by now. I knew none of the bullshit Andrew was spewing was the least bit truthful, and no one was ever in the wrong but himself. But it hurt to hear these words from someone whom you once enjoyed the fleeting pleasure of hearing much sweeter ones from.

I did the first thing my frazzled mind could think to do. I picked up a rock from the edge of the driveway and chucked it at him, hitting his shoulder. I had just enough time to escape through the woods behind PJ's house, off to the town center. If Andrew chased me, as long as I could get that far to the stores and all that, I'd be safe in the middle of clueless bystanders. But he didn't.


	6. Chapter 6

**DAN**

When I saw him, I wanted to keep driving, but I couldn't. Even from a ways down the road I could see he needed help, even just a ride home. Yeah, we didn't exactly get along the first day we met, but something in me couldn't let me keep rolling down the street. I pulled over a few feet away and got out.

He didn't see me standing there, at first. He didn't even look up, just kept watching cars go by. I stood at a good distance, just watching and waiting to see if he would move. He was completely still except for the shaking of his shoulders and the sharp gasps of air. He must've been fucking freezing out in this cold with nothing but a t-shirt and jeans.

I winced and awkwardly rubbed at the back of my neck. He had a suspiciously shaped bruise on his upper arm, glowing red and fresh. Maybe I didn't like the kid very much, but he'd been so friendly, and I actually hated to think that someone had hurt him.

Eventually he did look up and see me standing there, and must have recognized me. "H-Hey," he stuttered out, sounding very small. He fixed his hair a bit and tugged at his short sleeves, trying in vain to hide the handprints left on his skin. "What are you doing here?"

"Had a doctor appointment," I answered casually, sitting down next to him on the edge of the sidewalk. People continued to pass by us, unfazed by our presence as fleeting bodies in their own existences. "What about you?"

He took a moment to answer; I had to figure he was trying to come up with something mundane, so I wouldn't ask any more questions. With that idea in mind, I promised myself I wouldn't. "Got hungry; came into town to buy a snack."

I nodded, and after a moment of silence between us, I remembered something I'd heard in the hallway at school. "So today's your birthday?"

He nodded mutely, looking back down at the road.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Cool. Can't wait to be eighteen, but I've still got more than another year to go." I'd never imagined that this kid was actually older than me. "Are you gonna have a party or something?" Not that I'd necessarily go, but maybe to just be friendly I'd consider it.

He didn't answer for another moment, rubbing his knees through his jeans. "I-… I had one tonight, but it didn't go very well. Too many people, too much noise… I left early."

I couldn't help but sadly associate that with the bruise on his arm, but still didn't ask about it. We weren't close, we weren't even friends –we were new neighbors and I decided to strike up a conversation in hopes to cheer him up. I sucked at it, but hell, I was trying: that's more than can be said for eighty percent of my life.

I got to my feet and reached out for his hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

He just sat there for a long moment, and I started to think maybe he didn't want to go, maybe he'd just prefer to stay where he was. But at last he took my hand and let me pull him up. I let go as soon as he was steady and led him to my car. I noticed he had a painful looking bruise on his right arm that mirrored the one on the left –someone must've grabbed him, and grabbed him hard. I didn't like to think about it.

* * *

I stopped at the supermarket on the way home. "You wanna come in?" I asked as a courtesy. He shook his head and stayed inside. I took my keys with me but didn't lock the doors. I picked up my prescription and headed to the bakery, where a woman met me at the counter and asked what she could help me with.

"I just need a little cake that says 'Happy Birthday—'" I didn't know the kid's name. "Just 'Happy Birthday' is fine."

It took a few minutes but I walked out with a bag and everything paid for, so I could skip the register. When I got back out to the car, I put the bag in the trunk –careful with the cake— and got into the driver seat. The kid hadn't moved and inch since I'd left him.

When we did get back, I parked in front of my house rather than his, and when he tried to get out I calmly asked him to hang on a minute. He looked nervous but stayed put. I huffed out a sigh and turned to look at him, trying to speak as coolly and sincerely as I could manage.

"Hey, um… I know you've been trying to keep what happened tonight a secret or something, but those are definitely bruises on your arms, bruises from someone grabbing you. Maybe I'm looking too deep into it, but hear me out. I…" I sighed again and shook out my nerves. He waited, patient but anxious. "Are your parents home?"

He looked over to his driveway and shook his head. "Doesn't look like it. I think they might've gone to my aunt's house."

"Is anyone home at all?"

"No."

"Then I'm not comfortable letting you go home right now –at least not alone. I don't know who hurt you and you don't have to give me details or anything, but if whoever it is comes looking for you, it's gonna be at your house. And if you're alone there, they could do a lot worse. If they already hurt you at a party, with lots of people around, I don't wanna risk what they'd do if you were all alone."

I paused for a minute and looked at him. He was staring down at his lap, obvious tears in his eyes. I couldn't help but feel protective of him –and maybe we could be friends or something after all. When he wasn't being all excessively cheery, he was more than tolerable. I had to admit, I kinda liked him when he was quiet.

"Anyway, there's two options. You can come stay at my house, with me and my family for the night, or I can go stay with you at your place –I'll sleep on the couch to make sure no one gets in. They won't get past me, and at my house no one our age will get past my dad."

He was silent, thinking, considering which option he wanted to go with. I sighed in relief when he didn't show any signs of fighting it, not insisting that he was fine and going off to be hurt again or worse.

"And how do I know you're not a rapist?"

That sort of came out of nowhere, but I figured it wasn't an unreasonable question in this situation. Granted, I'd never lay a hand on him, but maybe my word wasn't enough. I pulled the butterfly knife out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Because if I try anything at all, I give you permission to cut my dick off."

He smiled a little and stuck the knife in his pocket. "Alright, let's go to your place, then."


	7. Chapter 7

**PHIL**

Dan was right. Andrew may not have come after me after I escaped him, but he could show up at my house at any point, and if I was there alone, he could easily hurt me worse than he already had. I shuddered at the thought and rubbed at the bruise on my right arm, and then the left. But once Dan and I were inside his own house, I tried to forget about it. Andrew wouldn't find me here, would he? I could only hope. At least I wasn't alone.

Dan led me into the dining room and set the shopping bag down on the table. I curiously tried to peek inside but the yellow plastic obscured the contents. But Dan reached in and pulled out a small orange bottle, which he stuffed into his jeans pocket, and let his coat fall to the floor. I only then realized just how cold I was, after being out in the middle of winter with nothing but a t-shirt. It wasn't terribly cold today or tonight, so I didn't complain.

Dan reached into the bag again and pulled out a small cake that had 'Happy Birthday' written on it. Rather dumbly, I asked whose birthday it was. Dan smirked, laughing a little. "Yours, stupid." I blushed bright red and he explained, "You said you had a shit birthday, I figured the least I could do was make it a little better, somehow."

I shook my head firmly. "No, Dan, you're already taking me in for the night—"

"Because I'm worried someone's gonna hurt you. Because they obviously already had. This doesn't do any more than maybe even that part out. Your birthday should be the best day of the year for you, and maybe we don't know each other very well, but I wanted to do something nice." He took the lid off the cake and got a knife and paper plates and plastic forks. "Now come eat your cake, birthday boy."

I paused but nodded, not wanting to argue his sweet gesture. I sat down at the table and he served me nearly half the cake. I ate just a little bit; it tasted really good, but I wasn't hungry, and couldn't bring myself to have more than a few bites. I pushed the plate away and folded my arms across my stomach. Dan asked if I was done; I nodded, and he put the rest of the piece with the rest of the cake, and put it in the fridge. "Take it home with you tomorrow." I nodded.

Dan took me to the living room to watch TV for a little while, asking over and over what I wanted to watch until he gave up when I couldn't give more than a shrug in response. We ended up watching some cheap action movie, but Dan turned it off halfway through, and turned to me.

"What?"

"You've been shaking," he answered plainly. "During every fight scene you've been flinching at every hit. Are you okay?"

I was almost surprised at how genuinely concerned he sounded. I hadn't even noticed, but he had. Had he been watching me or the movie? "I-I'm sorry. I'm fine."

Dan stood up, tugging his jeans up and shirt down to cover his back. "Come on, you're probably tired. You'll sleep in my room tonight." I nodded silently and followed him upstairs.

"Hey, what's your name again? Sorry, I'm really bad with names and shit."

I smiled a little; I couldn't help it. "Phil, my name's Phil."

* * *

Dan's room was small and mostly barren, boxes stacked and strewn in one corner next to the door, making entry a bit of a struggle. There wasn't much out and unpacked besides his bed (with black and white sheets and bedding to match), a desk with some small papers and a laptop spread around on it, and a drawer at the foot of the bed, where Dan put the orange bottle.

"Wait here," Dan instructed, leaving the room. I stayed in place, standing awkwardly in the middle of the wooden floor until Dan returned. He came back with a blanket he must've gotten out of the closet in the hallway.

"We never really have anyone over our house, so there's was no need to get a place with an extra bedroom." He set the blanket down on the floor and took a pillow off the bed, laying that at the end. "But that's okay, we can both sleep in here tonight; you take the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

I sputtered a bit at the suggestion, going bright red again. "No, no, Dan! It's your room, I don't want you to—"

"Kid, this is the arrangement, just accept it." He paused and sighed a little, going a bit softer. "You're not a burden or intruding or anything. I'd feel bad if my guest had to sleep on the hard floor while I slept in my bed."

What he said didn't make me feel any better about it, but I reluctantly agreed. I wandered the room a bit, not very tired and still uncomfortable with being here, and worried that Andrew might find me even here. I felt sick over it.

My eyes were drawn to the papers on Dan's desk, and I didn't mean to look, but I did. But I was more than a little stunned at what I found.

"Dan…"

"Yeah?" He hadn't seen me poking around in his bedroom, and I almost wanted to say never mind, it was nothing; but I couldn't.

"Dan, you sure have a lot of… cancer health pamphlets over here." I swallowed hard. "Is… Do you have a school project or- or something?" My voice was shaking terribly and it wasn't helping the situation.

I turned sheepishly to Dan in time to see him look to me, and sigh heavily. "No," he answered plainly. "I didn't want them, though. My parents pick them up every time we go to the hospital. It's like they're collecting them, and the last time I tried to throw them out, they got all worried that I was depressed or something." He scoffed, and something told me his parents had every reason to worry.

"You… You have cancer…" I would've phrased it more like a question, but it was a little obvious at this point. If I hadn't already been feeling sick, I definitely was now.

"Yeah, but I'm not, like, dying or anything." He sounded so unconcerned, and I wondered if he'd just adapted. "It's a brain tumor," he said at length. "I'm doing chemo right now to reduce the size of the tumor, and hopefully it'll get small enough to be removed. It's not right now, but I'm not too worried."

"Dan, this is a serious—"

"You don't need to fucking tell me, I know." There was a pause; he took a calming breath and I stayed silent, letting him continue if he wanted to. "Anyway, here's to hoping everything works out, and if not…" I watched anxiously as he just shrugged his shoulders, and I didn't say anything else. But surprisingly, it didn't seem he was done with the topic just yet. "Come here."

I moved closer and sat with him on the side of the bed. He put a hand on my shoulder, and started brushing his fingers lightly down, over the painful bruise left there by my ex.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered as I flinched from the touch. He put his other hand on my other shoulder to keep me there, and the hand that had been roaming down my arm took my own. He brought my hand up to his head and pushed my splayed fingers through his hair, and it came out with clumps gone from his head.

He looked at the amount shed and smirked, but the expression didn't come close to his eyes. "Damn. Not long now, huh?"


	8. Chapter 8

I woke up next to Dan; it turned out there was enough room for the two of us to sleep side by side.

I went home early that morning, slipping quietly out of Dan's bed so I didn't wake him. I checked my phone to find three missed calls and ten text messages, all from PJ.

'WHERE ARE YOU' 'SAW YOU GO OUT WITH ANDREW' 'OH MAN' 'ARE YOU OKAY' '?' 'ANSWER ME' 'ANSWER ME PHIL THIS IS REALLY SCARY' 'WHERE ARE YOU PHIL' 'DID HE HURT YOU?' 'OH GOD'

For a long moment I could only stare at the messages on my screen. He must've been really worried about me last night. I ran outside, unable to let him wait any longer but not wanting to wake Dan up, either.

"Phil!" he shouted into the phone.

"N-No 'hello'?" I asked nervously, rubbing at the back of my neck.

"Cut the shit, where are you?"

"I'm at my neighbor's house…"

"What are you doing there?"

"I… I wasn't safe going home."

There was a pause, and I heard him sighing into the phone. "I can imagine. Why do you think I was so worried? I saw you go outside with Andrew, but when I went to check to make sure you were okay, I couldn't find either of you. I-I went to see if you were at your house but you weren't and I was really scared that Andrew might've hurt you. I wanted to call the police, but…"

"But I told you that no one could know about what Andrew did last weekend…" I exhaled, wincing. "I'm sorry for worrying you so much. I'll make sure to look at my phone more often from now on, and answer so no one has to worry all night.

"… It's fine. Anyway, what happened when you two went outside?"

"Um…" I told him everything from Andrew failing to take responsibility for what he'd done, to when I threw the rock at him –"Nice,"— to sitting on the sidewalk, to Dan taking me back here and giving me a cake and just generally being sweet to me.

"Are you gonna get on that?"

"Get on what?" I asked, genuinely oblivious.

"That," he laughed. "The guy you stayed with last night. You talk about him like you really do like him; you gonna make a move or what?"

I groaned quietly, knowing he meant well, that his heart was in the right place even if his mind was in the gutter. "No, Peej. I'm not exactly looking to 'get with' anyone right now. I just want to get through the rest of the school year without incident and go to college. As far as I can tell right now, I won't be looking to sleep with anyone until I have a master's degree."

I could almost hear his shrug. "Suit yourself, then, but that's not the Phil I know." I groaned a bit louder than before, and hoped this conversation could just end soon. "Anyway, I'm working at the studio all weekend so I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeah, see you Monday." And we hung up.

I went back into the Howell house, upstairs to Dan's room. I stood in the doorway for a minute –Dan was awake now, and sitting up in bed. "Hey," I greeted softly.

He smiled a little at me. "Glad you're back, tiger. Thought you might've left me."

I smiled, blushing a little and pushing my hair back into place. "I had to call my friend, he was worried sick about me last night."

"Oh?" He patted the spot next to him on the bed, and I slowly stepped toward it. "Because of whatever happened with you and that guy you need to hide from?"

I nodded, not looking him in the eye. I started to feel sick. I had to open up; I had to tell someone, and despite Dan's rough outward appearance, he'd been nothing but sweet to me all night. And with his big 'secret' already shared with me, the least I could do was to tell him a bit about my own dark history. For once I didn't fear judgment, and that was enough to get me talking, if a bit timidly.

"Yeah… Andrew and I used to be together, like, together-together. In my freshman and sophomore and some of my junior year, I used to party a lot, get drunk and let dudes fuck me in strangers' bedrooms. And I didn't mind; it made me feel wanted, so I kept doing it. Then Andrew became a regular, and became very possessive of me, not letting me be with anyone else. I asked him what his deal was and he said that he wanted me to himself, because he wanted me to be more than just a good fuck to him." I pulled my knees up to my chest. "And he was cute so I agreed to be his boyfriend. But he's also a football player and was scared of us getting out to the rest of the school, and any potential talent scouts. He thought that if anyone found out he was gay then he'd lose his chance of a sports scholarship. And I was okay with that –honestly I was pleasantly surprised he wanted to go to college at all. So we just kept us a secret, sneaking kisses and sometimes a bit more in bathroom stalls. It wasn't ideal, but he was always sweet to me and I was happy."

I paused for a long moment, trying to hold myself together. "But eventually having to keep our relationship a secret did put a strain on it, and I didn't want to, but for my own sake I had to break things off between us. Andrew was just about devastated, and kept begging and begging to have me back. I felt bad and always ended up crying when I had to reject him, but I couldn't go back to secrecy. And after a while I had to just stop answering him altogether.

"But, um…" I sniffed, and Dan put a hand on my shoulder. I managed to not flinch away, instead relaxing a bit into the touch. "But then last weekend we were at the same party –my friend dragged me there, I shouldn't have gone— and while we were both there I tried to be civil. But he, um, he put- put something in my drink: j-just enough to keep me awake but malleable. And he t-took me into a back room and st-started to take my clothes off. I-I was so scared and tried to fight him off b-but he held me down. I-I panicked and grabbed a glass off the drawer next to the bed, and smashed it on his skull." I rubbed my eyes against my jeans. "I got away. But last night he showed up to my birthday party and started blaming me for everything that happened, and he grabbed me –as you can see— and I got scared again and hit him with a rock. And I ran to the middle of town where I figured I'd be safe, and collapsed on the sidewalk. And that's when you came in."

And then suddenly I was engulfed in Dan's arms. I didn't realize I was really crying until I pulled away a bit and saw the damp spot on his shoulder. He put a hand on my face and gently tilted it up so I'd look into his eyes. I hadn't realized they were such a lovely shade of brown.

"If you'll let me, I swear on my life that I'll treat you better than that douche canoe ever did."

This was so sudden I honestly didn't know how to react. "But- why? Why do you want me, of all people? We- We barely know each other."

"I don't know why. I don't usually feel so emotionally involved with people, so obviously you change something about me. I figure it has to be for the better, and I don't want to just let it slip away. You deserve better than what he gave you; you should never have to hide. I'll understand if you don't want to be with me, I understand completely. Just know how I feel, and that I'd do everything in my power to treat you like a prince."

I was pretty certain I was blushing a brighter red than I ever had before; my face felt like it was on fire. I sputtered a bit, and gathered my wits, and leaned a bit closer. I tilted his head up much like he'd just done mine, and laid my lips on his. He tasted sweet and it felt so good and I never wanted to let go. He kissed me back feverously and I melted in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

I spent most of the weekend with Dan, helping him unpack and playing video games and sometimes not doing anything at all. I think he just liked having someone around; I felt the same. He managed to make a lot of my worries disappear for a few hours at a time, but when I went home for the night on Sunday, by the time I walked through my front door, everything came flooding back. I dreaded Monday. I dreaded seeing Andrew.

I didn't sleep at all that night, feeling sick over the thought of having to see that awful person again. I tried desperately to get some rest, but anxiety plagued my mind and I wanted to vomit at the thought of being forced to confront my ex –especially after Friday night, and especially now that I was with someone else, someone who actually cared enough not to hurt me, that I knew so far.

When the sunrise finally ended that damned night, I had to drag myself out of bed and force myself to get ready for school. I came across my father getting ready for work, and he noticed how sluggishly I was making my breakfast. We were out of any good cereal, so corn flakes would have to do. But I was feeling too sick to eat.

"You okay, bud?"

I looked up with tired eyes, almost letting the milk spill over out of my bowl. Well, that was a wasted endeavor, wasn't it? "I, uh, I don't really feel well. I was up sick all night."

"Probably Monday Blues. Just tough it out for today; I won't make you do dishes tonight if you're still feeling sick."

"If I end up in the nurse's office, will you come pick me up?"

"Have some important stuff I need to get done today. Maybe your mother will do it."

I couldn't count on it from her. If I went to school, I was stuck at school; I winced at the thought. "Can I just stay home?" I whined, not meaning to sound so angsty and pathetic but I really couldn't face Andrew yet. One more day and I'd finally pluck up the courage to confront him, or just ignore him, but I wasn't ready yet. "I won't be able to focus in class, anyway—"

"You were fine when you came home last night. Like I said, just tough it out for today, I'm sure you'll feel better. And if you're still sick tonight, you can stay home tomorrow."

He had to leave soon, and I figured it was a fair enough deal, so I shrugged and let the issue go. I picked at my food as my parents left for work.

* * *

Dan didn't come outside to catch the school bus, and when it came, picked me up, and drove off down the road, I started to get worried and wondering if something might've happened. I plopped down in a seat with no one, set my bag down beside me and pulled out my phone. I had no texts or missed calls from him: no explanation or excuse as to why he didn't get on the bus. I thought maybe he'd drive or his parents would drive him, but I wasn't taking any chances. I had to know he was okay.

'Where are you?' I tapped out nervously, and anxiously awaited Dan's reply. It came a minute later.

'I just woke up, what's wrong?'

'You missed the bus. Are you coming to school?'

'I have chemo this morning, I'll be in later probably'

'Okay'

'Is everything okay?'

'Yeah, fine. I'll see you later'

'See you later. Bye.'

I slumped in my seat, bile rising in my throat and burning as I had to swallow it back down. I just had to make it through the morning on my own, and I probably wouldn't even be seeing Andrew at all before I saw Dan first. So why was I still so worried?

* * *

As expected, I wasn't able to focus very well in my morning classes. I was too preoccupied thinking about seeing Andrew, and waiting to see Dan, to worry about calculus or persuasive essays or anything like that. More than one teacher that morning caught me just staring out the window, and some more than once. I was called out on it in front of my fellow students, and it just made me sink further into my seat with additional weight on my shoulders.

I didn't go to lunch; I wasn't hungry. I went to see the nurse instead; I told her I wasn't feeling well and she took my temperature and all that, but said it didn't seem I was coming down with anything. She asked if it might've been stress that was making me sick, and all I could do was nod. She was nice and all, but I didn't want to really disclose anything right now. I just wanted to lay down for a bit, and she let me.

I was in the back room, trying to get some rest when my phone buzzed. I checked and perked up a bit to see it was Dan, and that he was here, and was heading to the nurse's office. I couldn't help but smile a bit, texting back that I was already there. I got a little smiley face in reply, and my day was instantly lightened.

* * *

"How was your morning?" I asked, sitting up on the cot while Dan sat on the one opposite me. I pulled my legs up to sit cross-legged on the uncomfortable cushioning; there was no way to really be comfortable on this thing, but it would do for now. I didn't know why I was making small talk; he looked so tired, like he just came here to sleep through the rest of the school day. "I'm sorry, you must be tired—"

"No –well, yeah, but I've been waiting to see you." He laid down on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes half-lidded. I looked down at my lap. "What are you freaking out about?"

I didn't want to put my troubles on him, but if I was going to give him a reason to break things off with me, it should be sooner rather than later. If I was going to be a shit boyfriend who angsted over the smallest things, he should know now. "I'm just not really ready to face Andrew again, but I have the last two periods with him, and he's my lab partner so I'm stuck with him."

"You'll be fine, don't worry." He laid his head down on the tissue paper protected poor excuse for a pillow. "If he gives you any trouble you tell me."

"I really don't want to drag you into this."

"Then I'll barge my way through these walls you've put up around yourself. I'm not gonna let him hurt you again."

I tried to promise myself that I would tell Dan if something was wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to do so; I knew I wouldn't. "Alright." I looked up at the clock –I had to go to chemistry now. "I-I gotta go. I'll see you at the end of the day?"

"Come see me between periods, I'll wait for you outside the bathroom."

I smiled a bit and nodded. "Okay. I'll see you then."


	10. Chapter 10

My heart was pounding hard against my chest and I wondered for a moment if maybe I was dying. Every step down the hall, weaving in and out of groups of students, felt heavier and heavier. For a moment I just had to stop in the middle, ignoring everyone bumping into me, and just let my feet unglue themselves from the linoleum.

In my stillness and against the pounding in my ears, I pondered over what would happen if I just fainted right here. I'd probably get trampled a little bit before some kind soul would help me wake up, and they might even help me back to the nurse's office. I'd tell Ms. Regi that I'd passed out and she'd send me to the back room again, and I could spend the rest of the afternoon with Dan and a headache.

And thinking about passing out, I almost did until I realized just how long I'd been holding my breath. I let out a large puff of air and started gasping for more, unable to really get a handle on myself and scrambling for reality. Someone beside me asked if I was alright; I gulped and nodded shallowly, and they left. I forced myself to take deep, soothing breaths, and marched down to C9 for class. I'd been as brave as I could be so far, and be damned if I was going to give up now.

I paused outside the classroom door for a moment, letting other students slip in past me. It seemed I was going to be the last one inside again, and maybe late for class. I reached for the door handle, fingers trembling and aching but refusing to take a hold of it. I felt like I wasn't in control of my body or my mind, that fear of someone I'd once loved left me floating somewhere outside my being. I let out a shaky breath and told myself how overdramatic I was being, stole myself and turned the handle, storming inside before fear could only me back any longer.

But Andrew wasn't there. I looked around the room like a frightened rabbit scoping out its predator, and then above my head at the clock. Class was due to start now –I wasn't late, but Andrew usually wasn't, either: he liked to have some extra time before class to try to talk to my unwilling self.

"Late again, Mr. Lester," Mr. Kent reprimanded, marking me tardy in the system. "One more time and you'll join me for an afternoon in detention." I nodded silently and moved to my seat. "Mr. Duncan and Miss Lucas are absent today, so you and Miss Jameson can work together in the lab today."

I swallowed hard, and for a moment, I thought I might have rather worked with Andrew –but that would be a stupid thought indeed. But at least if I was working with Andrew, I would know exactly how to interact with him. There was no way to get around my own awkwardness working with my ex-boyfriend's beard.

* * *

We started the lab activity early, because apparently it was going to need more time than we had in the final fifty-minute period. I watched the clock through most of the start of it, ignoring instructions and subconsciously relying on being able to work it out somehow, even working with Kayla. Dan and I were due to meet just next door in less than ten minutes, and I felt really silly for wanting to rush to him as soon as possible, but something drew me to him like a piece of iron in a magnetic field.

For several minutes Kayla did nothing but give me the stink eye; she obviously was just as thrilled to work with me as I was with her. I cleared my throat, wanting to ease the situation but wondering if she found out about Andrew and I. It would be horrible for her to find out now, after we weren't even together anymore –what's the point? "Um, can I help you?" I coughed out.

"You know what you did," she answered, glaring. "Andy told me everything."

I would've resisted the urge to roll my eyes if I wasn't so struck by what she was saying. "What- What do you mean?"

She leaned in to hiss a bit closer to my face, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a thousand percent uncomfortable just then. "He was just trying to have fun at a party on Friday, but then you got him alone and started coming onto him like the fucking faggot you are." The word stung no more and no less than any other time I'd heard it. "And when he tried to push you away, you freaked out and through a rock at him; broke his fucking shoulder and he spent the weekend stuck in bed." She leaned back a bit, and I didn't say anything. "I mean, I didn't like you before, but now I know just what a pussy pervert you are, and soon the whole school will, too. And if you get your ass beat for it, that's what you get for being such a creep."

I just bit my lip, and expecting what was definitely coming over the next week or longer. Yeah, I didn't put it past Andrew to spread that kind of lie to avoid telling what actually did happen that night. I shook my head, not really feeling like going through the rest of the lab activity. At this point I just really, really wanted to go to Dan –he and PJ were the only people who knew what really happened on Friday, and he promised he was going to be there for me.

Logically, I had no reason to trust Dan more than any other new friend, and whatever status we were currently riding didn't make much of a difference when we'd only really known each other for just a few days. But something kept me going back to him, and he hadn't broken my trust yet, and seemed genuinely interested in treating me like Andrew should've. Maybe it was selfish for me to take him up on the offer; maybe I was taking advantage of him just to finally feel I'm worth anything besides a report card. But doesn't everyone deserve to feel wanted sometimes; like their existence actually matters?


	11. Chapter 11

The bell between periods rang at one-twenty-seven on the dot, and I couldn't rush out the door fast enough. I waited out in front of the boys' bathroom for Dan, wondering what might have been taking him so long, since he said he'd be here when I got out of class for a few minutes –or did I imagine that bit?

Real or fabricated, though, I didn't have much time to dwell on it; my brain suddenly switched to telling me that everyone's eyes were on me as they walked past. I couldn't do anything but wonder if Andrew told them anything, and what they knew or what they thought they knew. They probably thought I was the violent one, because there was obviously no way Andrew would actually own up to his sexuality. And yes, I could understand him not wanting to come out, he'd explained it to me a million times before and I sympathized. But now everyone was going to think that I assaulted him when it was, and always was, the other way around.

I felt light-headed and almost collapsed against the water fountain. I took a quick sip from it and wiped the droplets from my mouth, swallowing hard. It splashed and settled heavily in my otherwise empty stomach and just made me feel sicker. I decided I couldn't stay out here and wait for Dan; if I stayed there too much longer I was going to vomit in the middle of the hallway. I ducked into the bathroom and headed for a stall in case I did throw up, but listening a bit closer I noticed someone was already in there and doing just that.

I tentatively knocked on the stall door. "Hello?"

"Hello?" the poor soul croaked out. My breath hitched in my throat –it was Dan in there.

"Dan, it's me…" I shuffled a bit awkwardly outside the door, wincing and tears building up in my eyes. I hated to think he was outwardly sick like this, though I knew the underlying cause was much, much more serious than a stomach bug, or even better my silly worries and stress making me nauseous.

The door opened a little; Dan grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. I didn't have time to react before he was back to kneeling in front of the toilet, heaving his guts out. It sounded wretched and painful, and all I could do was kneel down on the floor next to him, rubbing his back and pushing his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.

"Don't- Don't touch my hair," he coughed out during a break in the vomiting. "It's already falling out, I'd like to keep it intact as long as possible."

I nodded and withdrew my hand. He seemed to be finished for now, and half-collapsed against the toilet seat. I wrung my hands together, muscles strained but nerve endings numbed out. "Are you okay…?" I asked sheepishly, uncertain. Maybe he wasn't up for talking about it; maybe he just wanted to be left alone now. The three minutes between periods had surely run out by now, but taking care of Dan took the highest priority over returning to do the lab activity with the likes of Kayla Jameson.

Dan coughed a little and sat against the tiles on the wall. I scooted along the floor to sit beside him, close but far enough to not invade his space. "I'm fine, I guess…" he sighed, wiping sweat off his face and looking even more exhausted than he had earlier.

"Don't bullshit me." I was honestly surprised by my own bluntness and choice of words. I stammered a little and finally elaborated. "I mean, I-I know you're not feeling well –it's pretty obvious and really understandable. But if you're actually trying to convince me that you're okay, I think this may be messing with your head a little more than you think—"

It was only then I realized I might've gone too far, said too much, overstepped my boundaries. I thought any moment Dan would get up and leave and never want to see me again. But he didn't. He laughed a little, and turned and smiled at me. "Okay, then," he relinquished, tears visibly welling in his eyes. "I'm not okay, I'm fucking horrible. My insides are on fire and I have a splitting migraine and my hair's falling out, and- and I'm scared of what's coming. I don't think I'm gonna die, necessarily –I'm not giving up yet. But at the same time I have to think about it –as much as I don't want to— and I don't want to die. I can't die before I even get to live.

"So, no, I'm not fine, I'm just so used to having to pretend that I am. Everyone –my parents, my friends, everyone— they all expect me to say I'm okay, because they don't want to deal with reality –but they aren't the ones who are maybe dying! I mean… do you know why we moved here? My parents couldn't handle it, and wanted to be closer to family so they could have a better support system. They uprooted me from my home and brought me here –not for improved medical treatment, not because I fucking wanted to, but because they were selfish enough to put their own needs ahead of their cancer-ridden son. I don't think they thought how it would affect me, but that's the fucking problem, is that they didn't think about anyone but themselves. I know they care and all that shit, but not enough to actually do what's really best for me."

I couldn't keep myself from crying at the pain in Dan's voice, but I tried to keep it discreet for his sake. He didn't need me bawling on top of everything else he had to deal with.

"Everyone just quietly accepts it when I lie and say I'm fine. They don't want to or care to think about how maybe the kid with a brain tumor is not fucking fine. So, thank you. I mean, it really shouldn't have to be such a huge fucking progression that somehow doesn't believe me when I say I'm fine, but you didn't, and I really am grateful." He turned a bit more to face me a little more fully. "And I don't want to dump all my bitterness on you, but I just needed to let it out."

"I don't blame you," I replied quietly, wiping my eyes dry.

"I'd much rather be kissing you or something right now if my mouth didn't taste like puke."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "It's okay; we'll have plenty of time for that later."

"Do you wanna come to my place after school?"

I thought about it for a moment. Honestly, I didn't want to run the risk of seeing Dan's parents after what Dan had just told me. I didn't want to accidentally be rude in my bitterness toward them. I shook my head. "I think you should come over to my house… or maybe we can just run away."

He laughed and leaned in to kiss my cheek, leaving a burning blush in its wake. "Maybe another time. For now your house will do."


	12. Chapter 12

"Home sweet home, I guess," I announced to Dan as he trailed in behind me, letting my backpack fall to the ground and my arms flaring out with nothing better to do. I spun around to face him, rubbing my hands over my legs to relieve some of the tension. "I'm sure it's all you'd hoped for."

He laughed and sat down, making himself at home, which I couldn't really protest. "Thank you for inviting me over. You really have the whole house to yourself after school, huh?"

I nodded, sitting down next to him, our knees just barely brushing each other's through our jeans. "My parents work late and my brother's away at college. I usually start on homework about now and then get my chores done before anyone gets here."

Dan laughed a little, shaking his head, which was now visibly shedding. "Are you always so uptight? Don't you ever give yourself any time to just take a breath and relax?"

I thought for a moment about that. My regular routine on weekdays was go to school, come home and study, do chores, eat if I was hungry, study some more, and go to bed early to get up early in the morning. And weekends lately, before this and last weekend, were never much more eventful. I let out a shaky sigh, not really wanting to admit that he was right. "Uh, no, not really," I answered at length, shaking my head for a little too long. "No, not since I stopped partying and all that."

"I think you need to get out of the house some more –get comfortably out of your comfort zone." He leaned back, hands folded across his stomach, eyes falling shut. I decided not to disturb him, and kept running my palms over my jeans, eased a bit by the friction. I kept on doing it, but soon my hands were tensing against my thighs and even though they kept moving, I couldn't find the warmth anymore.

Dan's hand suddenly took mine, squeezing it and running his thumb over my knuckles. I swallowed, a little startled at the sudden gesture, but squeezed back, fingers twitching a little. "You're so tense," he correctly observed; I nodded, saliva blocking up my throat and forcing whatever words I wanted to say back down my windpipe. "What are you so anxious over?"

I shrugged, my shoulders feeling heavier than they usually did. "I dunno. Nothing, really; I guess I'm just sort of an intense person."

I turned to face him just in time to see him smirking and sitting up a little. "You know how when you asked me if I was okay, and I said yes, you saw past the lie and refused to believe it?" I nodded; it had only been an hour or so ago. "Well, this 'intense personality' thing? I'm not buying it, and I'd sincerely appreciate if you'd tell me what's bothering you so I can try to help."

I sat silently, staring down at my lap. I felt the cushions shift a little as Dan turned to face me a little more completely.

"You're too sweet to be burdened by stress like this; that's why I'm not believing it when you say it's just how you are. And being your dutiful boyfriend now—" (the first time either of us had said it) "—I'd sincerely appreciate you telling me what's going on so I can try to help. So, tell me, what's wrong? Friends, family, school? That abusive douchebag ex of yours?"

His words were blunt but his tone was soft and caring, like he was trying to be honest without getting too much of a visceral reaction out of me. I didn't want to think about Andrew anymore, any more than I absolutely had to, but that didn't seem to be working. I didn't say anything.

"It's him, isn't it?"

"Yes," I squeaked. "And school; and college applications."

"You haven't gotten any back yet?"

I shook my head. "I sent out about seven, but I really want to go to NYU, and I haven't gotten anything back from any of them yet."

"Well, it's only February. Application time hasn't even ended yet. You'll get in, I'm sure of it." He moved closer and rested against my shoulder, rubbing at the sides of his head. I winced and wrapped an arm around him. "Cancer can go fuck itself hard in the ass."

"I'm sorry."

"Before me have you ever known anyone with it?"

"No."

"You don't have to get involved, you know. It's my burden; I'll stop talking about it if it makes you uncomfortable."

I shook my head but didn't say anything. Dan was silent, too, but laid back a little, a tiny tiny smile on his face. I couldn't help but smile, too, and unconsciously started gently running my fingers through his hair. A good amount came out in my hand. Dan peaked an eye open and saw it before I could get rid of it somehow.

"I'm so fucking sick of that, too." I nodded, understanding as well as my lack of personal affliction would allow. "Think I should just shave it off and get it over with?"

I shrugged the shoulder that his head wasn't lying against. "I don't know. If you want to, I guess."

He bent his head back further to look up at me, smirking and eyes glittering. "Would you do it for me, pretty please?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just stammered out an "okay."

"Now?"

I sat still for a second, then gently nudged him off my shoulder and went to go get the trimmer.

* * *

"Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

I'd buzzed about half of Dan's hair off his head, and was told to keep going. I kept asking over and over if he wanted me to stop, if he changed his mind, but he never did. I shrugged and figured there was really no reason to turn back at this point, and kept carefully cutting it away.

"I'm telling myself that you asked me to do it because you wouldn't be able to get the back yourself, and that you don't want your family doing it because you don't seem to be on the best of terms with them today."

"You can tell yourself what you want; I'll just pretend I'm not asking because I'm somehow already completely infatuated with you."

I laughed, blushing, and hit his arm. "I'll leave you with a shedding mohawk, I swear. It is way too soon for infatuation."

"No, it's too early to be in love. I think you can fall for someone pretty quickly, and a few days is plenty of time for that."

"But—"

"No buts. You're kind and smart and beautiful, in descending order of what I value but which you seem to have in equal amounts."

My cheeks were burning and distorted while I was grinning ear to ear. "How are you such a quote-unquote bad boy type and yet such a romantic?"

"I had to get a lot of dating advice to woo my exes."

My smile faded a little and I buzzed off another line. "So I may just be one in a line of—"

"Stop right there. They didn't mean nothing to me; I loved them all. Give me time and I'll fall in love with you, too."

I smiled shyly and finished the job.


	13. Chapter 13

I waited out at the bus stop in the morning, rocking back and forth on my heels and every few seconds glancing over at Dan's door. I frowned a bit, growing more disheartened with every minute he didn't come out and join me. I wondered if maybe he was being driven in a little while, or not coming at all. Maybe he had chemo again this morning, but I couldn't imagine he'd have it two days in a row; it would probably do more harm than good.

It was starting to rain. I considered going back in for an umbrella, but then the bus would probably come while I was inside, and I had no other way of getting to school. It was cold and wet, but at least it wasn't snowing.

I heard the opening and closing of a door behind me, and smiled, turning and hoping to see Dan coming over. But it wasn't Dan, it was his mother going to her car. I decided to be a polite neighbor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Howell!" I greeted, waving a little and shouting over the rain.

She looked up and just stared at me a moment before forcing a smile. "Good morning."

"Is Dan coming to school today?" I asked, wincing a little.

"He'll be out in a minute. If the bus comes ask the driver to wait for him."

I nodded and looked at the door again as she pulled out of their driveway and drove off. I waited a few seconds, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I wiped away raindrops and texted Dan, letting him know he was going to be late if he didn't come out soon. I only had to wait a minute for his reply.

'Hungry. Need food. Out in a sec.'

I smiled and put my phone away, staring into space.

Dan was indeed out a few minutes later, and since the bus was ridiculously late this morning, he didn't miss it. He had an umbrella and was apparently making no effort to hide the sudden not-having-hair thing. "How do I look?" he asked, grinning, standing there in his nearly all-black outfit for the day.

I smiled. "Very handsome."

"You don't have to lie. I know I look like some sort of alien—"

"You asked me to."

"I know. And I don't regret having it done or having you do it." He ran a hand over his hairless head. "It'll just take some getting used to, I guess."

I nodded. "Well… either way, I do think you look cute, even with all your hair shaved off." I couldn't look at him when I said it, though; I was too embarrassed by my own sad attempt at a compliment.

"You are completely soaked through."

I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself, as if it would help any.

"You're gonna get sick."

I shrugged; he was right, I had no real argument to make. "It wasn't raining so hard when I came out. I didn't want to miss the bus running in to find an umbrella." Dan moved his umbrella to hover over me and not let me get any wetter than I already was. "No, then you'll get sick!"

"Then come here." He grabbed my arm and pulled me in closer, so the sort of small canopy would hang over both of us. "And stop being so tense," he laughed, rubbing my back.

I managed to relax a little against him, adjusting to the closeness and remembering that this was Dan, that Dan wasn't gonna hurt me. I took a few deep breaths and was unconsciously leaning into him. But that was when the bus finally pulled up in front of us, stopping and opening the doors.

"Go on and find us a seat," Dan told me as he attempted to close the umbrella. I got on and found an empty spot toward the back. I plopped down and Dan joined me just a minute later. "I think they think I'm carrying some deadly contagious disease." He gestured to the other passengers, some of whom were giving him strange looks even while he sat back here with me.

"Ignore them," I advised, totally pointless. "Does anyone at school know?"

He scoffed quietly and looked down at his lap. "Besides you and the nurse? No one. And honestly, I'll answer questions if they have any, and tell them if they're genuinely curious, but I don't expect to get too much of a response besides quiet shock and staring."

I nodded. That seemed about right.

"So about getting you out of your comfort zone…"

I blanched and coughed nervously. "Dan, I know you're trying to help but—"

"No, hear me out." He turned to face me a little more. I resisted the urge to just stare out the window. "I'm going to Manhattan in a few weeks to visit my aunt and she's gonna take me all around and see everything. And I'd much rather it be with you."

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to be discreet about it since Dan had none now. I could already feel myself shaking at the idea. "I don't know, Dan. I mean, I'd love to go with you but I'm just not sure about going to a city where there could be danger around every corner. I-… I can barely go to school now without worrying about Andrew—"

"But you have every reason to worry about what he might do, because he has hurt you before." He kept his voice down so others around us wouldn't hear. "Look… I don't want you to go if you're gonna be on edge the whole time. I want you to be comfortable. Just know that if you go with me—" He reached up for my face and tilted it back toward his own, looking me dead in the eyes. "_I will not let anything happen to you_."

I nodded, smiling weakly, open to reconsider the invitation but probably with the most unintentionally closed open mind imaginable.


	14. Chapter 14

School went about as well as school could. I didn't see Dan much, except we met up in the nurse's office during lunch, when he had study hall. I skipped my chemistry class so I wouldn't have to run the risk of running into Andrew. (When I texted Dan from the library, telling him I was in hiding that period and asking him if it made me a coward, he told me to not be ridiculous. I still felt like one but I didn't say it.)

By the end of the day Dan had a massive headache. He leaned heavily against me on the ride home, eyes shut tight and trying to block out the noise of the bus and its riders. I held him a little, ignoring the strange looks I got because they didn't matter. I didn't know if I was being helpful at all –I probably wasn't, but I was doing the best I could. Dan scooted a little closer to me; I didn't know if it was because he enjoyed my presence or because my rubbing his shoulder was somehow helping ease the pain. I didn't ask.

When we were dropped off, I asked Dan if he wanted to come to my place where it would be quiet, or wanted me to go to his room with him. He just shook his head, forced a smile, and told me he was going to try to sleep the headache off. "I'll probably come over later."

I had homework to do but I just let it sit in my bag for a while. I tried to distract myself from all the stressors in my life, but no amount of video games or trying to catch popcorn in my mouth was going to drag me away from my situation with Dan and with Andrew. I hate being so engrossed in cruel reality and a lot of the time it just makes me want to vomit.

I texted Dan to ask if he was okay, but since he was alleged to be sleeping I didn't expect a response for a while. I decided to finally get started on my homework, resolving to only do a little and the rest later on. I tapped my pen erratically against the paper; all this school stuff only reminded me of how I was still waiting on college applications. I knew I probably wouldn't get in, but some small sliver of hope remained that all my years of relentless studying would pay off. And even if I was going to be rejected I'd rather know about it sooner than later.

But despite the secondary stressors homework brought on, something about it remained cathartic for me. I didn't have to invest in the realities presented to me in literature or mathematic word problems. Something about escaping into the lives of fictional people meant that for just a little while, I didn't have to worry about my own. So I would always openly embrace the man buying sixty watermelons at sixty-eight-point-nine percent wholesale value. I leapt into a world of fantasy because the harsh realities of life –and by extension my own— didn't have to exist there. It was really dumb and really nerdy of me to enjoy doing homework, but for an hour and a half I could forget about my cancer-stricken boyfriend or my abusive douchebag of an ex-boyfriend.

Speaking of the latter douchebag, the next time my phone buzzed to life (I expected Dan) I answered and it was that bastard on the other end. "I thought I blocked your number," I spat, staring with dead eyes into space.

"Apparently not." Even over the phone I could already tell his was tiptoeing around the important issue. Typical Andrew: he'd always rather ignore the problem than fix it. But at the same time, he knew it bothered me, and I'm pretty sure the sadist in him got off on my misery. "I heard you talked to Kayla yesterday. And you weren't in class today but I know you were in school."

"How do you know I was in school?" I couldn't help but tense at the idea he might've been watching me.

"I asked around. Ben said you were in your lit class this morning."

I sighed and stayed silent for a minute. "Why are you calling me, Andrew?"

"I want things to get better between us."

I huffed out a laugh but this was not even the most minutely funny. "After you started the rumor that I came onto you at the party, and when you rejected me I got angry and through a rock at you?"

"… Yeah, but you know why—"

"When in reality it was because you grabbed me and I was so scared I felt I needed to physically defend myself and run away?" My blood was boiling and my chest was getting tighter; I tried breathing slowly through my nose. There was no way I was going to let onto him that I was anything but strong and composed about this.

"Yeah, but you know why I said it. And I didn't mean to get around to the whole school, I mean, Kayla's a gossip but I told her this was a private matter I didn't want getting out. I didn't want our class turning against you."

"Well, if they have, they haven't said anything."

"Are you okay?"

"The fuck do you think?" I didn't like to swear, really I didn't, but sometimes it is necessary to get across what you're feeling.

"No, I mean, like— feeling okay."

"I'm fine," I answered curtly, even though I wasn't. "Is that all you wanted to say to me? That you didn't mean to spread lies like that?"

"And that I'm sorry—"

"No. No, Andrew, you're not sorry, so stop pretending you are. I just- I just want to be able to put this behind me but you're not letting me. If you were really sorry you'd just never talk to me again. That's about all the apology I'm going to accept anymore, but I'm never going to forgive you. If you love me— If you ever loved me, please, just leave me alone…" I trailed off toward the end, sounding more desperate than I wanted to. Breathing was difficult; air seemed scarce and I was trying so hard not to cry.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't hang up. I winced and hung up before he could hear me struggling. I slammed my phone down on the couch cushion next to me and ran my hands over and over my face. I could feel my mind giving up on me and I was home alone. I had a small window of clarity and reasoning before the full panic set in, and since there was no stopping the attack at this point all I could do was use that time and find someone to help me through it.

My parents were at work, and even in person their help was adequate at best. My brother was a little better with it but he was at college and probably in class or with friends, and I didn't want to disturb. I could go next door to the Howells (if my legs decided to hold out) but wouldn't that be an awful visit. And I could call Dan, and maybe he'd come here, but he was sleeping off a tumor-induced headache, and I couldn't put him in pain just to get myself out of mine.

So I didn't get help. I forced myself up to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, collapsing hard onto my bed. I rolled over onto my back and crossed my arms above my head, trying to open my lungs for as much air as the anxiety attack would allow. I felt like I was dying, but I told myself over and over that I wasn't, before my capacity for reasoning diminished completely.


	15. Chapter 15

The next time I was conscious of my surroundings I was in the hospital, laid flat on a cot in hospital clothes and no sheet over me. Aside from myself, the room was empty, which was a bit disappointing. My phone was on the small table next to me, and I reached over to turn it on. It was at fifteen percent and it was just past one in the morning. I tried to think back to when the panic attack had started, squinting my eyes and digging around in my addled brain to find an answer. Unresolved, I checked to see when that fucker had called me: five-forty-eight. So the whole thing probably lasted a little over seven hours. I let my head thump back against the pillow.

But I had a text message: from Dan, no less. 'You're okay. I'll be right downstairs if you need me.'

I had to wait until I was cleared by a doctor to go downstairs. Sure enough, Dan was in the waiting room, head in his hand and absently scrolling through his phone. "Hey!" I quipped, trying to get his attention.

Dan looked up and saw me, and immediately stumbled over to where I was standing. "H-Hey! You're alright, thank god."

I nodded and forced an optimistic smile that probably didn't fool him. I wanted to ask what had happened, but then he might explain that I had a panic attack, which I already knew. "How did you find me?" was probably the better option, so I asked.

So Dan decided to start from the beginning and go through the whole story, standing there in the middle of the emergency room. "I woke up from my nap at, like, eight, and the first thing I wanted to do was text you and ask if I could come over. You didn't answer straight away, but I figured it was no big deal, and you'd reply soon. But an hour went by with no response, so I got worried. I figured, well, your parents probably wouldn't mind me coming over just to check on you. So I went over and knocked, and waited, but nobody opened the door."

"My parents were out with friends." They're hardly ever home.

"Right. But I was still worried –you know, with your ex still at large and all that— so I just sorta snuck in. It was dark but I found the stairs and figured your bedroom would be up there. But even from the end of the hall I could hear really bad gasping for air, so I ran to your room and found you—"

"In the middle of a panic attack."

"Yeah… I didn't know what to do, so I called for an ambulance. I rode along with you, and called your parents. They're talking to the doctor right now. Mine are on their way."

I nodded, taking in the sequence of events that occurred while I was out of it.

"It was scary."

I looked up at Dan, not surprised by what he said but by how he said it. He honestly sounded like he was still scared now, like he thought I'd shatter into tiny glass pieces at any moment. "When you found me?"

"You were pretty much unresponsive. I mean, I guess that if you were going to go through something like that, you'd rather not be conscious of it. A paramedic said you'd probably passed out, but you seemed awake still. You probably blacked out. I dunno… seeing you lying there struggling to breathe… that- that was scary, especially since I didn't know what was wrong and was scared you were dying." He wiped at one of his eyes.

I bit my lip hard. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry—"

"But I am. So if you could please accept my apology and we could try to move on…"

He sighed softly and sat me down next to him. I couldn't look him in the eye; I felt horrible for scaring him like that. "Look at me," he said, but I didn't. "Phil, look at me."

I winced and turned to face him, just barely meeting his eyes. They were red and a little wet, probably like mine.

"It was scary but I'm glad I found you."

He didn't explain it. I wasn't even sure he could explain it, but hearing him say it sort of put me at ease a little. "Thank you," I said quietly, staring back down at my lap.

* * *

I didn't go home with my parents. I went to spend the night –what was left of it— with Dan. I don't think my parents or his cared if we had sex. Mine would probably be glad I was putting myself out there again (which is really weird and I can't find logical reason for it), and Dan's were worried he was gonna die soon, so he should live life while he could.

That got me thinking, though. What if Dan was gonna die soon? I kept telling myself that he was too young to die, but many have died much, much younger. My cousin Alan died when he was two months old, after everyone who knew he was sick thought he was gonna be okay. Dan kept saying he was gonna be okay –that the tumor would shrink and be removed, and he'd be cured— but I knew and his parents knew, and he probably knew himself, that it wasn't that easy.

I stared out the window with these painful thoughts in mind. Dan had found me in the middle of an anxiety attack, and that had scared him enough –and Dan was a much stronger person than I was. I was suddenly terrified that I'd somehow, sometime soon, find him dead. My breath hitched at the thought, and went uneven again. My thoughts suddenly switched over to fear of another attack, but Dan pulled me to lean across the car seat, huddled into his side.

"Shh, you're okay. You're alright, just breathe… breathe…"

"Dan…" I choked out, trying to focus on the inhale and exhale like he was instructing me to. I was bent over far enough that my head was on his chest, and the sounds of his own breathing and heartbeat started to steady my own.

"You're okay. You're safe."

I forced out a silent laugh. "For- For someone who didn't know what to do… You have a decent handle on it now…"

"You were asleep for a while at the hospital," Dan's father explained from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, and I wasn't content to just wait for you to wake up and return to my ignorance. I asked one of the nurses to explain to me what to do if this happened again."

"They're not that often," I'm sure he was relieved to hear. I swallowed hard at the thought of what had triggered me. "Andrew called, trying to apologize for lying about what happened. I guess all the anxiety I had over him just boiled up and finally blew. But it's only every… few months or so. I guess it depends."

He smirked, rubbing my shoulder. "So… 'intense personality,' right?"

I smiled a little and hit his arm halfheartedly. "Don't make fun of me…"

"I'm not. I just want to make sure I'm informed so I can know what to do to keep you as calm as you can be."

"Just… Just you being here helps a little. I mean, obviously I'm still anxious all the time but, you know, having you here –knowing you care and will invest in helping— it does mean a lot to me."

He grinned and pulled me impossibly closer, pressing his lips to my cheek and making me smile and go red.

"I…" He looked down at me, curious. "I do want to go to the city with you."


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks later and we sort of had a routine going. Dan had chemo on Mondays and Thursdays and started to not come into school at all, which I was okay with because I officially dropped AP chemistry "for personal reasons." I would still be taking the exam in May so I could get credit for college, but I'd be studying the material on my own. I started talking to the school social worker, who referred me to a psychiatrist that I didn't go to. I liked Ms. Damons, she was enough for now.

As for Andrew, I didn't see much of him now. I'd pass him in the hall, and my breathing would hitch when he looked at me, but I never made eye contact –I couldn't afford to. One day, about two weeks after the phone call, I went to the front office to speak to the assistant principal, and Andrew was there. Of course I realized later I was wrong, but in that moment I was just terrified that he was stalking me. He didn't say anything, hardly even looked at me, but I was petrified. I had to call Dan while he was in the middle of a test, and he gently helped me calm down.

That day I almost walked out of the school –in the middle of the day, no less— planning to never come back. I couldn't live in fear of a classmate, nor could I tell a teacher or faculty member what Andrew had done to me. They wouldn't believe me. Andrew was a golden child to the entire school, admired and loved –and what was I? After my party days I was quiet, shy, more devoted to good grades than any kind of social interaction. My teachers liked me well enough, said I was their favorite student, but they didn't know me, and I didn't know them enough to trust them with probably my most painful and personal experience. And there was no other way to be kept safe from Andrew. It was honestly a terrifying existence.

But then Andrew didn't come to school for a few days –PJ told me that someone told someone who told him, that Andrew was suspended for two weeks, because he shot staples at a classmate that I didn't know. And that was enough for me. Two weeks wasn't a very long time, but it was enough for me to try to catch my breath even if my chest was still squeezed tight.

I got off the bus on Friday feeling a little more alive than usual, and reached back for Dan's hand, intertwining our fingers. It was early March and we had a three day weekend, and Dan and I would be spending it with his aunt down in the city.

Dan smiled at me and squeezed my hand. I heard the bus pull away behind us as we walked to my house, where we'd be alone. "You all ready for our little trip?"

"I still have packing to do," I admitted, shaking a little, unlocking the front door.

He laughed. "We're going for a few days, not a month. Pack light, it has to fit into my mom's car."

I nodded and pulled him along up to my bedroom. He followed eagerly, almost beating me there. I didn't need to close the door behind me –there was no one to walk in on us, and we weren't doing anything too saucy, but I liked to have it shut and locked anyway. Dan tugged me over to my bed and sat down, pulling me into his lap and kissing my neck.

"Dan!" I giggled, halfheartedly pushing him away. "Come on, I still have stuff to do before we go." We were leaving tonight, and honestly I hadn't gotten anything packed yet. Dan would help once he was done ravishing me.

"Aren't you almost done?"

I blushed, embarrassed, looking away. "N-No… Sorry, does it mean we're not going?"

He shook his head and kissed the bridge of my nose. "Of course not, don't worry. We'll get you all packed up, and if we have to leave a few minutes later than we planned, then we will."

"Later? I'm… I'm sorry."

Dan had learned by now to just accept my apologies and move on. He nodded and kissed me cheek, gently nudging me off his lap. "Come on, we've got packing to do."

I nodded and stood up, going to my closet to retrieve my suitcase. Dan said to pack light; this should hold enough.

Dan grabbed a few neatly folded pairs of jeans from my drawer and laid them on the bed to count them. I looked through the shirts hanging nicely in my closet, deciding which ones I wanted to take. I highly valued his opinion, so I asked Dan; "Which shirts are gonna look best on me?"

Dan laughed a little and rubbed his head. "Anything black or dark-colored –really complements your skin well."

I ran a finger over my pale face, suddenly conscious of the lightness of my skin. "I-I'll tan in the summer," I lied.

"No you will not," he chuckled, three pairs of jeans into my open suitcase. "I will tan –you will burn."

I didn't argue it, though. I'd been so worried about him lately, scared that he was gonna die before the school year was out. I still was, of course –I couldn't help it— but hearing him imply that not only would he probably be alive come summer, but alive and well enough to be going outside and being damaged by UV rays, was really good to hear. I folded up my darkest shirts, as per Dan's request, and put them in the suitcase.

Together we packed the jeans and shirts, and two hoodies and a scarf from my grandma, and socks and underwear (and I went bright red and frozen when Dan was touching those). And I was all packed by five.

We went to Dan's house after that, and I wheeled my stuff behind me, and Dan opened the door for me. "I'm gonna see if my mom will let me drive us down," he whispered on my way past. I nodded, not sure why, and sat stiffly in the living room. "Breathe."

Mrs. Howell came down a few minutes later, all nicely dressed and keys in hand. She said a quick hello to me from across the room, and asked Dan if we were ready to go.

"Yeah, Mom, about that…" Dan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not making eye contact. "I think I can drive us down there."

She looked a bit stunned. "Uh, sweetie, I don't think that's the best idea right now."

"And why not?" He sounded defensive, speaking more rudely than I'd getting away with speaking to my mother. But Mrs. Howell seemed unfazed, continuing to speak softly, as if I wasn't supposed to hear. I tried not to, but they were too close.

"Just with the brain tumor and all that—"

"It hasn't really affected me, though. I can drive. I'm not 'cognitively impaired,'" –it sounded like something Dan had heard before with this— "there's no real reason not to let me drive."

"But if that changes…"

"In what, the next few days? I'm not gonna lose function over the weekend. I invited my boyfriend, I want to spend time with him while we're down there, and on the way down there."

Mrs. Howell shot me a hard glance at the word 'boyfriend,' and I had to look away.

"And… if things do somehow get bad in this very small window of time –despite all the progress I've made— Phil can drive us back."

She looked down at me again. "You have your driver's license."

"I have my permit," I answered, feeling small.

"And I have my license," Dan intervened, "so he can legally drive with me in the car. I won't be impaired or anything, it'll be fine."

She still didn't seem to like the idea, but Dan still looked ready to stand his ground, despite how thin and fragile he was. I hated seeing him like this, but it made something like pride swell up in me to know he was still going strong.

Mrs. Howell seemed to be running out of arguments that Dan couldn't come up with a reasonable retort to. I watched them discreetly, picking at the plastic lining of my luggage and trying not to have too much of a stake in this battle. I honestly didn't mind if his mother drove us down, but Dan wanted us to be alone, and I wanted what he wanted.

At last, the decision was made. "Okay, go on, then."


	17. Chapter 17

Dan and I got our stuff into his mom's car, and for as little as we had, it barely all fit in the trunk. Dan apparently had real reason to tell me to pack light; otherwise it might not all have made it down to the City. I didn't see my parents before I left, as we were leaving at five-thirty and they wouldn't be home until at least after seven. It was just as well, though. Sometimes I had to wonder why they even wanted a second child, or children at all, if their first priority was always their work.

Maybe it wasn't that they ignored my existence, though. Maybe it was that they didn't feel they needed to watch me over my shoulder, making sure I didn't screw up. My dad always said I was a natural with "self-discipline," and as far as they knew, I'd always been a good and mature kid who didn't need much supervision or attention. Well, that was kind of right; I quit parties and alcohol and other such things a while back, and threw myself into school and studying. And now instead of going out and having fun, I could sit in my room amid piles of books and papers, stressed to insanity over my future.

"You okay?"

I'd gotten into the passenger seat, and Dan was getting in beside me. "That… That hat looks weird on you," I replied dumbly, not really sure what to say. It was, however, a perfect opportunity to let him know what I thought of the furry creature on his head.

He laughed, shaking his head at my response. "Thanks. In the absence of hair I needed something to keep my head warm. But really, are you okay?"

I nodded, and he pretended to believe me. He put the car in gear and we were off.

* * *

"Are you hungry at all?" Dan asked, an hour into our ride.

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm fine." I stared down at my lap, wishing I'd eaten before we'd left.

"Did you eat?"

No. "Yes."

"Well, I didn't, and I'm hungry." He looked out to my side of the highway, in time to catch a sign. "There's a rest stop up ahead with a Burger King, we'll pull over for a bit."

And we did just that –pulled in, parked, and headed inside. I sat down at a small, battered booth and picked at the sleeve of my hoodie while Dan ordered. We still had two more hours, give or take, until we'd reach his aunt's house, and stopping along the way was making me nervous. I didn't want him to be driving in the city at night; it was a scary thought, that we might get pulled over or hijacked or worse.

I tapped incessantly at the table top, watching as Dan stood casually at the front counter, waiting for the food. "Dan?" I squeaked, loud enough for him to hear me. He spun around to face me and I gave him a look that I hoped he could read as "Is it almost here? Are you coming soon?"

And fortunately, he did. He smiled and nodded. "Just a second, babe."

I blushed, still not quite used to even tame public affection. There was a couple sitting a few booths down, and they heard it, and scowled at me before going back to minding their own business. I wished I didn't care what they thought; I wish I could just brush off their ignorance and have a nice little meal with my boyfriend. But I did care, and it did bother me and I hated it. And accordingly, I tensed up as Dan approached with the food.

"Fast food, my ass," he laughed, setting the plastic tray down and sitting across from me. "I figured we could just share one meal."

"It's fine, Dan, I'm not hungry."

"And I don't know whether or not to believe you. My aunt's not gonna make us anything when we get there, and we can't really afford to stop again along the way. Just have a few fries—"

He took my hand and moved it to the food, but I yanked it back, holding it close to my body as if it'd been wounded. Nothing was said for a moment. Dan just sort of stared at me with concern in his eyes, and I tried to focus on breathing, and figuring out what to say and how to apologize.

Dan pulled his hands back into his lap, looking thoughtful before looking back at me. "Something on your mind?" he asked.

I shook my head, and he told me to stop lying. "I just…" I gestured to the people who'd given us a dirty look. "Them. When you called me 'babe,' they didn't like it."

"Did you like it?"

I blushed, and stared down at my lap. "Uh huh."

"That's all I care about." He pointed at them, leaning in closer and speaking more softly. "Those people are passersby in your life. You have never seen them before and never will again. Why should the opinion of two fleeting figures matter?"

It made enough sense to me. He spoke calmly about the overt homophobia, as if he really didn't care what they or anyone thought. And he was right; he deserved to be happy in peace, and maybe I did, too. I unwrapped the straw and stuck it into our Coke, taking a small sip, feeling rather mousey.

* * *

We went back to the car right after we finished eating. I'd only picked at the fries and left Dan to eat the burger by himself, and we took our soda with us. The cup holders had coins and crumpled receipts taking up too much room for the drink, so I held it in my lap, sipping at it every couple of miles.

"Have you heard back from any of those colleges?"

I tensed and shook my head. "No. I'm still waiting on decisions. I probably didn't get in…"

"You set yourself up for failure with that attitude. You're smart –you're so fucking smart. And you're friendly and caring and a hell of a lot of other stuff that would make these places immensely stupid to not only not take you, but to not offer you a free ride on academics alone."

Dan always found a way to make my cheeks burn. "I'm not the most sociable person… My activities section on the application definitely suffered."

"That's only a small piece of it, right?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, you're fine. You'll be accepted to most if not all of them, and whoever doesn't take you is run by fucking morons."

I laughed a little at the committee's expense. The conversation ended there, though. I gave Dan a little look and he understood that I didn't really want to think about it anymore, because thinking about it inevitably ended in worrying about it. I was already nervous about New York, I'd rather put the college thing to the back of my mind.

But while the matter was still fresh and, evidently, not easily escapable, I made a last minute decision. I pulled out my phone and texted my mother:

'Open and read anything from a college. Don't tell me if I was accepted but tell me if I was declined. Thanks.'


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** A nine-day drought, and I'm back and writing. Sorry for the wait!

* * *

A week before we left for our trip, I started to have doubts about being able to handle it. I told Dan that I still wanted to go, but I was scared. Once he calmed me down from an encroaching panic attack, he talked me through an option I'd considered before, but had always been too worried to go through with.

"Maybe you could start taking medication for it," he suggested, making sure the option was open to accept or decline. "I'll help you get a prescription."

And reluctantly –oh so reluctantly but seeing it as some kind of omen— I took him up on the offer. Dan contacted the psychologist, and drove me to the appointment, and to put my new prescription in, and to get ice cream while we waited. I'd suspected before that he'd sort of been my savior, but his patience and compassion that day kind of cemented it in my mind, and I was in love. But all the healthy doses of Xanax in the world couldn't give me the peace of mind to tell him that.

Anyway, it was a relatively uneventful rest of the ride. I took my scheduled dose of chill pills, and when I felt nauseous I took some Benadryl to inevitably put me to sleep. I was just nodding off, resisting the drowsiness, until Dan told me he'd be okay driving "by himself." After just a moment I was out like a light.

I wasn't awoken until a sharp turn jolted me to consciousness, and Dan explained that he'd almost missed the turn, and apologized for waking me. "Don't worry about it," I yawned, and rubbed at my tired, sticky eyes. I looked out the window as if I might recognize my surroundings. "Where are we?"

"We're almost there. My aunt's house is right down the road –we'll say hi, get settled, and you can go back to sleep if you want to."

I leaned against the window, still half asleep. "Are you tired?"

I didn't see him nod, but he answered, "I wish I could take a nap."

"You can as soon as we get there?" I didn't know why I phrased it like a question. The thought hit me then that Dan was tired because he was sick, and he was sick because of a tumor in his brain, and the tumor in his brain might be impairing his judgment, and he might not be able to drive. "Maybe you should let me drive."

He laughed a little. "We're less than a mile away, I'm fine. Don't turn into my mom, you're too cute for that."

I smiled a little and blushed, but I couldn't stop worrying.

"Are you okay?"

I was gripping my seat pretty tightly, and though he was supposed to be watching out in front of us, he must've noticed. I said as much, trying to change the subject. "You should keep your eyes on the road…"

"Breathe," he reminded me, not believing that I was fine and not ready to drop the matter. "We're almost there. You're fine, we're both fine." He reached his hand out for me to take, but I didn't take it. I needed him to get both hands back on the wheel before we crashed. He sighed a little and pulled it back. "I'm sorry for worrying you, really. I'm not that tired, I can make it to her house."

"I just can't forget that you're sick and—"

"I'm fine, remember?"

I didn't say anything. He sounded agitated and I was scared that if I said anything else, he'd break up with me. I loved him and couldn't lose him now, not over something as objectively silly as this. "I-I'm sorry, Dan."

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to tell me not to apologize because he shut it again and kept on driving until we reached a nice house toward the end of the street. And the pills I was taking to suppress my anxiety was having fun fucking with my memory, too. It wasn't until we were already in the poor woman's driveway that it hit me that I couldn't do this, that I couldn't go in and I wanted to go home. But we were so far from home and that realization just brought on the typical reaction.

He unbuckled his seat belt but didn't get out, turning to me and unbuckling mine instead.

"Breathe," he instructed again. "We're at my aunt's house and you're gonna stay with me, okay? Your pills are gonna kick in soon." They didn't kick in fast enough, which only proved to me they weren't as effective as I'd expected and hoped they would be; but Dan, bless his heart, encouraged me to keep taking them. "It's only been about twenty minutes since you took them, you'll be feeling better soon, just breathe."

I nodded and gulped a few breaths at Dan's paced instruction. He took my hand and pressed it to his own stomach, taking deliberate deep and slow breaths to get me to do the same. It worked, and I wasn't sure if it was the medication or just having my boyfriend there to get me through it, but after a few more minutes I was okay to get out of the car.

Dan's aunt was standing rather patiently in the doorway, leaning against the frame, eyes sort of half-lidded and holding a bottle of wine. "What's the problem?" she asked Dan while he was getting our stuff out of the car. I stood by silently, lips tight and turned in, trying not to shake.

"He's not feeling well," Dan answered casually as the last of our luggage was placed on the pavement. He carried his own stuff and offered to carry mine, too, but I wouldn't let him, and took them up myself. "Hi, Aunt Holly," he greeted, an afterthought.

She said hello back to him, and to me, and asked my name. "Who am I kidding, he's told me all about you." I blushed. "Every time he calls to make sure my house is still open, he goes off about how great his boyfriend is."

I wondered if that was true, and how it could be true. I wasn't great –I was average, at best, my only real asset being my report card. I turned to Dan to see his reaction, and he was blushing almost as bright as I was. "I can't help it," he mumbled, laughing. I tried not to smile too big.

"Just go in and get yourself settled. Upstairs, first door on the right. My girls take up most of the bedrooms so you two will share, but no funny business, even if there is only one bed." She winked at me as Dan walked past her, and gestured with the bottle, as if to offer me some. I shook my head and thanked her quietly, and followed Dan up to the guest room.

Once everything was in a decent place, Dan sat on the bed and motioned for me to sit with him. I did so, and the bed was just comfortable enough to sleep on; I wouldn't recommend the mattress to anyone I cared about.

"Are you okay?" It felt like he was asking the same question for the hundredth time today, but it never got tedious to hear. Maybe because I knew he actually cared to hear a real honest answer.

I shrugged. "I'm okay," I assured softly, letting my head hang, staring at my lap.

He rubbed my back –up and down, repeat twice— and asked if I'd like to just get some rest. I nodded, and he kissed my cheek. "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep."

I wanted to say yes, but I didn't want him to go on worrying, either. The medicine was finally kicking in and I was starting to feel a bit more at ease, even in a strange house. "I'll be fine," I nodded, and tucked myself in under the covers before Dan chuckled and came over to do a better job of it.

He kissed my cheek and rubbed his thumb over the lip print. "I have some top secret plans to discuss with Aunt Holly, anyway. I'll come up and join you as soon as that's taken care of." He grinned and patted my cheek. "Sleep well, angel."

I smiled a little and curled up into a tighter ball, letting my eyes fall shut. He turned the light off on the way out and closed the door behind him, letting it click as quietly as it could. I drifted off a minute later.


	19. Chapter 19

**DAN**

I never knew I would ever meet someone that I wanted to dedicate every day to making them feel special, and that's what I define as love. I woke up early, my head pounding like a drum, but I focused on Phil's peaceful sleeping face, barely illuminated by the sunlight slipping through the curtains. I smiled; I knew how often he had nightmares –bad ones— and it was a personal relief to see him sleeping well, especially when he was in a strange place and I couldn't expect it. I reached out and very gently stroked a finger down his cheek, watching him twitch a little at the touch but stay fast asleep. Waking up next to Phil in my aunt's uncomfortable guest bed, I knew I wanted to wake up like this again, and maybe for the rest of my life. And that scared me.

"Phil, wake up," I urged, nudging his shoulder. He squirmed a little but didn't open his eyes, so I spoke more loudly and forcefully. "Phil. Time to get up." He peeked an eye open this time, staring at me sleepily. "Big day ahead of us."

He slowly sat up a bit, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. He was all messy hair and a bit of dried drool on his cheek, pale with red splotches from where he'd slept on his arm; he didn't wake up like a Disney princess, but I didn't think he was any less cute. "You know it's meant to be when you're waking self is cute."

"Huh?"

I didn't realize I'd said it out loud, and coughed and mumbled it away. "Nothing."

* * *

My aunt was divorced with three daughters. Gem was eleven, Ava was nine, and Mickey was four. I never really knew them at all (I hadn't seen family up north since Mickey was born, and that was only briefly), so I knew they wouldn't adjust to me right away. Phil and I saw Ava and Mickey at breakfast that morning; apparently my aunt had taken Gem to a dance class. Mickey was quietly eating her Mini Wheats, and Ava was proving was an invasive hell spawn she was.

"So you guys are getting married?"

I blanched, and turned to Phil to make sure he didn't feel as awkward as I did. He was just staring down at his breakfast, as if he hadn't noticed what was asked. I coughed and shook my head. "No, we're not. We've only been together for… five weeks?"

"That's long enough to get married. I know you guys slept in the same bed. That means you're married or living in sin." She grinned a sadistic front-toothless grin. I wanted to bolt out of there and drag my boyfriend along with me, but I'd promised Aunt Holly we'd stay with them until I had to take them to their dad's house, which I was only doing in exchange for use of her second car and money to park in the city.

"We're not getting married. Now when are you punks going to your dad's place?"

Ava checked her phone. It is unbelievable to me that kids have smart phones before they hit puberty. "We have to be there at nine, so we gotta leave soon."

"Perfect, let's go."

"I'm not finished," Mickey lamented, as if it was a tragic loss to not be able to finish her cereal. I sighed and decided to let her eat, wishing she'd not be so clumsy with the spoon, and then remembering she's only four, but then her nine-year-old sister has a fucking smart phone so she should be able to eat cereal.

We waited fifteen minutes for Mickey to finish her cereal, and I herded everyone (but Phil) out to the car. I did all I was obligated to do as a good cousin, fastening the youngest into her booster seat and making sure Ava had her seat belt on. I got into the front to find Phil popping his pills, and smiled a little sadly at him. "I'm sorry today's not starting out very well. Once we drop off the little monsters, we'll go have some fun, right?"

He swallowed the pills down with a sip of water, and gave me the smallest hint of a real smile. He didn't say anything, and maybe he didn't have anything to say, but right then it might've been nice to hear his voice.

* * *

We were stuck in unusual morning traffic, and the girls were quickly wearing on my patience.

"Dan, I'm bored!" Mickey whined, fidgeting with her belt. It would've taken the rest of the car ride, including traffic, to explain just how much I didn't care that she was bored. I didn't come here to cater to them. I came to have a good time with my boyfriend and almost as soon as this traffic cleared up I would be able to get started on that. I really couldn't care less.

My head was pounding again and for a moment I thought I went blind. I rubbed the pain away while keeping one hand on the wheel, in case we ever actually got going.

"Dan? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." I didn't wanna stress him out before our first big day on the town.

It was pretty easy to find the place once the jam cleared up. I dropped them off without pausing to make sure they got inside, and drove off with my boyfriend beside me. I smiled over at him, and reached across the gear shift to take his hand. I waited for a smile from him, but got none, so I pulled my hand back. I must've done something wrong, something to upset him. I wondered if he would be even worse off if he didn't take his medication, but had to quickly turn my attention to the road.

A few minutes later, I couldn't help smiling when I felt a soft hand take mine, and my fingers were brought up to even softer lips. I didn't say anything; I'd probably ruin it.


	20. Chapter 20

Phil really didn't like being underground, so the subway was difficult for him, even with his medication. The station was crowded and loud, and he insisted on holding my hand the whole way while his was shaking terribly. For his sake, I tried to get us out of there, back up on the surface, as soon as possible. So most of our travel was walking. And that was okay, even if I had to sit down every couple of blocks, and sometimes the only place to sit was on the sidewalk against a building. But that was okay, because Phil would sit right next to me, and dig around through his bag for my pills and hand them to me with a water bottle. And I was happy just to have him there.

Most of the time we just wandered around, doing whatever we came by and only taking the subway if we really needed to. But it wasn't just the subway that was getting Phil on edge, because whenever there was a large crowd up on the surface, he'd squeeze my hand tight, and I knew to either go down a less crowded street, or just make it through the denseness as quickly as possible. I loved being here with him; I really did –I just sometimes found myself wishing he could be okay and enjoy himself, without the constant anxiety dampening his fun.

We were on the elevator up to the top of the Empire State Building, packed in with about seven other people, including a screaming toddler. Phil was sort of teetering on the fence between there and not there, and all I could really do was to hold him and encourage him to just breathe, because so much was going on in his mind and I couldn't really fight the internal battle for him. At one point I kindly asked the child's mother to shut her kid up; she glared at me and said "maybe your boyfriend could not be such a pussy." I wanted to punch her, but I didn't, and the kid never did stop screaming.

We got to the floor with the enclosed view. Everyone filed out before I could coax Phil out of the elevator. "Hey, the crowd's a bit lighter up here. You wanna take a look?" I almost felt like I shouldn't be handling him with kid gloves like I was, but he sort of needed it then, and I was happy to oblige. "You wanna look out at the city from up here?"

"How- How high up are we?" he asked in a small, timid voice.

"I don't know." I didn't have a number, and wouldn't have given one if I did. A number would only freak him out more. His face was red but calm, but his legs were wobbling as if they were about to give out. I gave him a small smile. "High enough to see everything. It's a magical view, I'm sure. Are you scared of heights?"

He shook his head. If he wasn't scared of heights, I wasn't quite sure what was still bothering him. Maybe he was just tired, and we should call it a day, and spend the rest of the afternoon and evening back at my aunt's place.

But just as I was about to offer to go home, he took a step forward, and then another, and was slowly walking up to a less crowded spot at the large window. I followed just a step behind him, letting him lead. From where he stood there, we probably didn't have the best view, but it was still breathtaking. He was clenching his fists tight, arms trembling from the tension. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like I'm gonna fall."

We didn't stay long. We actually took the next elevator down. Phil kept trying to apologize for not even staying up there as long as one of the elevator rides it took, but I told him not to worry, because we still had plenty else to do.

We were supposed to take the subway down to the Gershwin Theater to see Wicked that afternoon, which we did, but it turned out I lost the tickets, so we didn't actually get to go in. I felt really bad; that was supposed to be the end of our first day, and now it was cut short and ruined because of my forgetfulness.

We sat down on the sidewalk again, probably looking rather out of place and inconvenient. I sighed heavily. "Do you wanna just go, then?" I asked, disappointed in myself.

He shrugged. "We still have the rest of the weekend." He gave me a small smile and took my hand, and I remembered why I was so in love with him.

We took the subway back to the parking garage, only because we were so far away. I planned all this stuff in my head, all these silly little things we could do with the house to ourselves. We could bake cookies and burn them and laugh at our failure, or order pizza and watch Netflix til two in the morning, or keep walking around Aunt Holly's neighborhood til well after dark. I didn't really care what we did; anything simple and mundane was made memorable when I was with him.

I pulled out of the parking garage and couldn't see. I blinked my eyes a couple of times and everything came back cloudy, but I rode on. We were a couple blocks away and my vision had started to clear up, but I suddenly had a splitting headache, and Phil was talking to me in a worried tone but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I tried to tell him I was fine but I wasn't sure if that was what came out. I felt sick and wanted to pull over, but I couldn't pull over here so I had no choice but to make it just a little further. And then a little further. I felt like I was gonna vomit so I went to roll down my window. The last thing I could process was rolling into an intersection and—


	21. Chapter 21

I'd only blacked out for a second after the crash. I woke up and my vision was blurry but I could see the flashing red and blue lights that seemed to surround us.

Once I was conscious enough of what was happening, I blamed my brain for it. Rather, I blamed the tumor burrowed snugly inside my brain, just deep enough that they can't remove it at its size. I realized we'd crashed because I didn't process the red light, because the tumor wouldn't let my brain remember something so first grade as "red light means stop." That's what I figured happened, but it was difficult to really piece it all together when there were lights and noises everywhere, and a chronic cancer headache to boot.

It took a guilty fifteen seconds of consciousness before I worried about how Phil was doing. It was only his wheezing from the seat next to mine that I remembered. There was an attractive blond man squatting next to him outside the door, and for a moment I considered telling him to fuck off my baby before I realized he was in navy blue, and holding an oxygen mask up to Phil's face, encouraging him to breathe. But that was my job, to remind him to breathe, so I felt a need to ask. "Is he hurt?"

The paramedic smiled at me, as if grateful I was awake. "No, the car hit mostly the back part of the vehicle. You two may be a bit sore for a while, but we looked you over and you're okay."

I groaned, doubting it was trusting his word as a sort of trained professional. "What's wrong with him?" I didn't like talking about Phil as if he wasn't right there, but by the sound of his labored breathing I probably wasn't going to be getting a response out of him. Besides, there was a sort of trained professional present and vigil.

"He's having a panic attack. Traffic is redirected so it's best we don't move him until it subsides."

And I remembered, and sprang into action. I undid by seatbelt with sore hands and with sore arms moved myself sorely just a bit closer to his side, just close enough to provide some comfort. He told me he felt a bit better when he knew I was there, even if he'd often black out in times like this. I reached for the bottle of water in the cup holder but it had spilt all over the floor. I briefly, halfheartedly and silently chided him for not putting the cap on. I turned to the man who was delegated to make Phil breathe. "He has Xanax on him. Prescription, of course." I could prove it if I needed to –we were not getting arrested for drug charges, this weekend was already too exciting.

"It's better right now to just get him to breathe," he said, as if he really had any new light to spread on how to help someone through a panic attack. I'm sure he'd seen a lot of things in his career, and I wasn't doubting his experience, but I knew Phil's individual case because I'd been helping him for weeks now. I didn't like this notion that making him breathe would help, because I knew that without proper comfort he could be like this for hours. And that was a more painful thought than I'd like to think about.

* * *

You'd think I'd be used to hospitals by now. No.

I've always hated the sterility of hospitals, but it was only in the last few months –filled with constant, unwanted and unpleasant trips— that my tolerance for them was really at an all-time fucking low.

I especially hated how here, for the first five hours, Phil and I were separated. Whenever I asked –not once, not twice, but five times to three different nurses— they said they didn't know anything about his situation, which only made me more on edge. When finally a doctor came in, and he claimed to be working with Phil, as well (what a happy coincidence) he said he was "sleeping it off," and I could see him soon. I knew what he meant, so I felt relieved enough to not ask any more questions for a while.

We were only at the hospital to quickly get checked out after the crash –and so Phil could rest once he was calm enough to do so. But when I was asked by a friendly-looking nurse what had happened to cause the crash, the detail about my tumor slipped out, and suddenly I was going to be here a lot longer than expected.

It all blurred together just like every other appointment in the last couple of months. I almost fell asleep during the scan, figuring I didn't need to be awake for them to take pictures of my brain. They asked me lots of questions and I answered them as well as I could, curiously peeking to see if what they were writing down was any indication of what I was telling them.

But I was awarded for my time and patience. When I was brought back to my room, Phil was there, sitting in the chair next to my cot and giving me a tired smile when I came in. I bent over and hugged him tight, and he buried his face into my shoulder, and I never wanted to let go but the nurse made me get back in bed.

We sat there and talked, but Phil was strangely quiet. He kept looking at his phone with misty eyes, but every time I asked him about it he forced a smile and told me not to worry. I told him not to bullshit me, but he held fast, so I eventually let it go.

Fortunately, we weren't asked to be apart for the rest of our time there, and we were discharged at about ten that night. Aunt Holly came to pick us up and even in the back seat of her car we weren't going to waste time on inches in between. Phil fell asleep against me, and I twirled my fingers through his hair.

"Get a room, boys," my aunt laughed.

"We have one at your place."

* * *

It was agreed between the two of us that we'd be going home first thing in the morning –Aunt Holly would drive us up since I couldn't drive anymore. Between my tumor headaches and Phil's anxiety, this weekend had already proven a bit too much. I wasn't looking forward to going back; I knew I'd be going right back to the hospital, and maybe not making it out of there this time. The thought of dying in the hospital was nauseating; I was too young for that.

I didn't tell Phil yet that almost as soon as we got home, I would be going back into the hospital. And shortly after that –two days or so— I would have surgery to remove the tumor. That sounds like a nice thought, so why didn't I tell him? Well, being told I had a a fifty-fifty shot of surviving it sort of kept my lips shut. But I was told that it was the best shot, because the tumor had shrunk down enough –the scan proved— to remove surgically. In a few days' time I could be either cancer-free, or six feet under –and it was an equal chance of each. The thought of going into surgery and not surviving it, after lasting months with a damn lump in my brain, was frustrating and terrifying and kept me awake.

Fortunately, it didn't keep my Phil awake, too. I looked down at him, sleeping so peacefully now, tucked against me, and knew I had to make it because I had something worth waking up to.


	22. Chapter 22

**PHIL**

Have you ever worked so hard for something for maybe your whole life, and then when it doesn't go how you were praying for it to go, everything seems to come crashing down? If so, you know how much it hurts.

That night I was practically living on the hope that my pills wouldn't wear off before I could fall asleep. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd have two attacks in one day (my record is a hellish day of three) but I wasn't gonna just let it consume me, either. I popped my pills as soon as I found out, and went to go sit with Dan in his hospital room, mellowing out but still sort of sad. In stupid rebellion I kept testing myself, looking at the text again and again to see what kind of reaction it would bring on. But good ole alprazolam didn't fail me this time.

_Rejection letter: NYU. I'm sorry._

I regret asking my mom to text me about rejection letters. I regret not deleting the message the moment I'd received it. It was doing no good sitting there in my inbox; it wasn't gonna mean anything a few weeks from now that it didn't mean last night. Did I just want to continue torturing myself with its presence? Was I much more a masochist of emotion than I'd thought?

And it wasn't that NYU didn't want me. Yes, it was my first choice school; yes, if I wasn't medicated that alone might feel like the end of the world, but I was, and felt heavily so. It was that my first letter –to my knowledge— was a rejection letter. This was only the beginning, and if they didn't want me, why would anybody else? It was the rejection itself, and anticipation of more rejection, that kind of killed me. It would be tragic for a life spent so diligent on schoolwork, to end because all the work never amounted to anything. It had all led up to this.

Dan and I were sitting close in the back of his aunt's car, sitting close but oddly silent for the two of us. I felt bad because I knew the silence was my fault, because I was keeping a secret I didn't want to slip out. With everything going on with Dan, and everything I'd already put him through, my quarter-life crisis was nothing to get him worried about.

And I started to think about how Dan shouldn't worry about me. Dan deserves better than my failure. Dan deserves someone who can be there for him properly when he was clearly in need; someone who didn't have baggage that they not only couldn't carry themselves, but put onto someone else because they didn't know what else to do. Someone had finally come into my life who let me talk honestly about how I was feeling, and actually cared, and it seemed now I was taking advantage of it. Dan had cancer; he was much more worse off than I was, but I was still selfish enough to suck away all his energy, too. And the worst part of it was he cared about me still. Dan took care of me and I was always perfectly content to be taken care of. He deserved so much better than that.

My breath hitched and I cursed myself. My anxiety was taking a firm grip on me again, squeezing me tight and making sure I couldn't breathe, and convincing me I didn't deserve the air I wasn't getting.

"Phil? Are you alright?"

Dan asked every time he knew I wasn't alright. He told me it was his way of gaging just how urgent it was –if I could answer him verbally, there still might be time to calm me down before the attack came on in full; if I couldn't, he could only really coach my breathing and offer his comfort. It was tedious and sweet; this time I could manage an answer. "Yes, I'm fine."

He reached between us and took my hand in his, squeezing it gently, knowing I'd want to feel him there with me. I told him that being on the highway was making me particularly anxious, because in that moment it felt better to lie than tell him how I was really feeling. And he believed it well enough.

Just over my palpitations I could hear Dan tell his aunt that we needed to pull off somewhere. I let my head tilt back, eyes falling shut and trying to focus on breathing, and I could hear Dan's encouragements in my ear. I smiled a little and squeezed his hand when he squeezed mine, and I felt the shifts of the car as his aunt pulled off the thruway.

"We're gonna drive around for a little bit," Dan said softly, stroking his thumb over my knuckles and his other hand over my hair. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A-A bit." And I was, sort of. I'd at least calmed down enough that Dan didn't have to worry so much.

I stared out the window as we drove around for a while, and maybe fifteen minutes after we'd pulled off the thruway, we turned onto a seemingly quiet street that happened to lead to a state park. Dan's aunt parked in a gravel parking lot.

"Do you wanna get out and walk for a bit?" I swallowed and nodded, and Dan got out, coming around and opening my door for me and helping me out. I smiled a little at him, eyes still wet, and he smiled back. His aunt said she was gonna stay in the car for a while. Dan asked her if she'd call our parents and let them know we'd be a bit later than expected, and she agreed.

Dan took my hand and led me along a paved path, neither of us knowing where we were going but that was sort of fun and adventurous for a minute or so of our very slow walk.

We came to a very long and wide pedestrian bridge, the Walkway Over the Hudson. I guessed that was the main and possibly only feature of the park. It was cold and cloudy out, so there was no one really there with us, which was nice; I enjoyed the quiet and solitude. Dan shivered walking next to me, and I wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer and falling into step with his step.

The fence along the bridge was about five feet high, which was appropriate as the bridge seemed to be over a hundred feet in the air. I started shaking, but Dan pulled me even closer and whispered that he was here, and to try to not be afraid. And I wasn't, really; I was feeling more numb than anything else.

Twenty minutes out we came to a flagpole, halfway across the river and over two hundred feet above it. The wind was blowing but I didn't feel it.

Dan was tired from the walk so we stood leaning against the high fence for a while, staring out at the southern bound river. There was another bridge for cars, but it was much lower, and it felt weird to look down at the vehicles zipping across like little ants. I wondered if this would've been what it might've looked like if I'd looked out at the view from the top of the Empire State Building; they had to be even smaller there.

"What're you thinking about?" Dan asked.

I stared down at my hands, my arms crossed over the railing. "I… I didn't get into NYU." It was a bit of a sporadic admission, but that was more or less on my mind since I'd received the text last night.

"I'm sorry."

I wiped at my eyes. "All these years of hard work for nothing."

"Not for nothing—"

"And what if I don't get any acceptance letters? I put out seven applications and not a single college is gonna want me. And it wouldn't mean so much to me if it didn't prove what an abject failure I was. I-I just—…" I wiped at my nose with the back of my sleeve; it wasn't sanitary but in that moment I couldn't care less.

There was a long, long moment of silence, and I considered taking us back toward the car and going home. But then Dan spoke again.

"I wouldn't have spent my final weeks with a failure…"

The implication was like a stab in the chest, and for a moment I couldn't breathe. "What- What do you mean?" I finally choked out.

"In a few days I'm going into surgery to remove the tumor. But there's still only a fifty percent chance that the same surgery that's supposed to save me won't kill me instead." His hand was suddenly under my chin, at last turning me to face him. I saw tears in his eyes and I wanted to wipe them away, but my hands hung heavy at my sides and I could cry, too. "When I met you I knew I could die soon. And at the time I didn't care much cuz I didn't have a lot of life to begin with, nor did I intend to do much with what I had. But when I had you, I knew I had to be strong and fight through this just so I could keep being with you on your worst days and seeing your smile on your best. I was perfectly content to live for you, and I still am, but soon that might all be taken away…" He wiped at his own eyes and I was still stunned motionless. "I love you. I love you."

And that's when I felt my resolve crumbling, but I tried to hold myself together for Dan, because he needed me. "I love you, too," I said quietly, and it felt like the sky opened up and the sun shone through as the fires of hell burned below us. Because right then I didn't quite know how to feel.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight, and he held me and didn't let go. I buried my face into his neck and took in his scent, trying to commit it to memory because it might be gone soon.

At last we broke apart, and started walking hand in hand back to the car. The wind swirled around us every once in a while, breaking through the otherwise silence. I looked to Dan and saw the lingering pain in his eyes, cast down at the ground. I could almost feel how lost and hopeless he was feeling in that moment; I often felt lost and hopeless, too.

I looked for a moment out to the river over the iron bar fences and realized why they were so high. When home seems lost, sometimes you need something to block your way out and keep you on this earth until things get better. I convinced myself they would.


End file.
